


Weight of the World

by moony143



Series: Hooked on a Feeling [2]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Non-GotG2 Compliant, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Peter and Yondu Have A Complicated Relationship, Space Battles, Stakar Ogord/Peter Quill - father/son relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-26
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-11-19 09:49:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 28,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11310864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moony143/pseuds/moony143
Summary: It's been months since the battle for Xandar, and Peter is feeling the strain of being in charge of the guardians, the pressure of being a highly demanded savior for hire, the ache of missing his captain. Everything in his life seems uncertain, and it doesn't help that there's suddenly some unnamed person hiring people to track him across the galaxy and kidnap him. Worse, that same group of people is now targeting other planets and leaving a glaring message that if they don't get Peter there will be war.Yondu's crew has been becoming increasingly restless, unhappy with being taken back into Stakar's fold, chafing at the pressure of rules they hadn't operated under for years. Can he keep a handle on them? Better yet, does he want to? Peter's absence sits in his chest like a constant companion, and Yondu is feeling the strain of an attachment he never wanted, an attachment that frightens him to his core because he's never been allowed to be vulnerable.Sequel to Fox on the Run, and part two in the Hooked on a Feeling series.





	1. Heavy

**Author's Note:**

> As promised, the start to the sequel! I toyed with the idea of doing what I did with Fox on the Run and just tweaking canon. In the end, though, I decided to bank left and veer so far from canon it's actually kind of scary! Updates might come a little less frequently, because I don't have a movie plot to work with. Anyway! Thank you guys so much for sticking with me, and I sincerely hope you enjoy this <3

Peter dropped his head onto the bar and sighed. If he’d known they were going to become such a hot commodity after the battle for Xandar he wouldn’t have been so quick to drag his team into such heroics. Okay, that wasn’t true, but he was definitely starting to feel the strain of all the work being thrown their way. He had no idea how the fuck Yondu handled sifting through all of the jobs sent to his clan on his own, because Peter was at a loss. He’d tried asking the crew to help out, but that hadn’t gone well.

_“Who’s offerin’ us the most money?” Rocket had asked, peeking up from where he was dismantling some kind of explosive (Peter had long ago given up on telling him not to mess with shit like that on the_ Milano). _His fur was grease-covered and sticking up in odd little patches, and if he weren’t a sentient asshole Peter would have said he looked cute._

_“Dude, what? We can’t just take most lucrative jobs! That’s fucked up.”_

_Rocket sneered, lips drawing back over his sharp little teeth. “Since when did you have such a bleeding heart, Quill? Suckers wanna pay us to save their asses, I say we go to the highest bidder.”_

_“I am Groot!” baby Groot supplied, coming up to grab onto the hem of Peter’s pants._

_“Thank you, Groot! I think he’s being a dick, too,” Peter smirked. Then, when he realized what Groot had said, “But watch your mouth! Dick isn’t a nice word.”_

_Groot glared. “I am Groot!”_

_Peter crossed his arms, frowning as Groot leapt away from him. “Hey, don’t argue with me! You’re too young for that kind of language, and that’s final!”_

_“I am_ Groot!” _he snapped, before tossing Peter the finger and running out of the room._

_“What? What the fuck, Groot, get back here you little – “_

_He groaned as Groot disappeared from view, rubbing absently at his temple and wondering when the fuck this temper shit was going to be over with. Groot had seemed so mild-mannered when he was full grown. Was it their fault he was such a little firecracker now?_

_“What did you do to the small tree, Quill?” Drax asked as he walked into the room._

_“Quill was mean to him,” Rocket supplied, dropping back down to bury himself in his work again._

_Drax crossed his massive arms and glared at Peter. “I am disappointed in you, Quill. As captain of this ship, you should treat your inferiors with more respect!”_

_Peter tossed up his hands, frustrated. “First of all, I am not the damn_ captain. _We’re a_ team _, alright? Second of all, I wasn’t mean to him! Rocket is just being a dick because I didn’t like his suggestion for which job to take next.”_

_Drax frowned and peered down at Rocket. “He does not look like a phallus to me. Is it possible for one to turn into male genitals?”_

_“You’re not –“ He paused, squinting at the other man. “Are you fucking with me again? It’s so hard to tell sometimes. I swear you’ve got the best poker face I’ve ever seen.”_

_“I am not ‘fucking with you’. Believe me when I say that you would be aware of it if I were. My penis is famously large – “_

_Peter choked, holding up his hands and waving them in the air. “Whoa, whoa, back it up big boy. I do_ not _need to hear that!”_

_“Peter_ does _like blue dicks!” Rocked chuckled, poking his head up again to grin at Peter._

_“You shut the fuck up right now, Rocket!” Peter warned, pointing his finger in Rocket’s direction and ignoring the heat suffusing his cheeks. He whirled on Drax next. “And you! Jesus, man, just – ugh – I’m changing the subject. I was asking Rocket what job he thought we should take next, because honestly there are so many I don’t even know what to do at this point. So what’s your opinion?”_

_Drax hummed thoughtfully, and Peter was grateful that someone was finally taking it seriously. For about ten seconds, anyway, until Drax opened his mouth. “We should take the jobs that will save the species most likely to be our allies in the war against Thanos. On my planet, the weak are left to either die on their own or become stronger. We do not need weak allies.”_

_Even Gamora had been useless, suggesting that they take only the jobs from people who couldn’t afford to hire anyone else. At least everyone else had been able to unanimously agree that that had been a shit plan._

Peter sat up and tossed back the rest of his drink, gesturing to the bartender for another one. They were in-between jobs at the moment, and had stopped to rest and re-stock on Aakon. He’d lit out of the ship like it was on fire the second they landed, and no one had questioned him. They could all tell that his mood had been becoming increasingly pissy the past few months, and if he wanted to go drink his troubles away they were more than happy to let him go.

He was pulled from his thoughts as someone sat in the stool next to him, the first person to ignore his stormy mood since he’d walked in the bar. Out of the corner of his eye he could see that it was a local, an Aakonian with sunflower yellow skin and jet black hair. She was shorter than him by a head or two, curvaceous and soft. He turned to look at her fully when one of her slim hands rested on his forearm.

“You look like you’re having a rough day honey,” she said, trailing her fingers down to caress his hand. “Anything I can do to help?”

Peter eyed her, sipping on his drink. She was undeniably attractive, and her confident little smirk would have had him in an instant just six months ago. Now, though? He and Yondu had never said anything about being exclusive, and they hadn’t seen each other since the battle for Xandar all those months ago. The universe was a big place, and Peter thought it was almost unfair to assume that they were going to be loyal to each other sexually. Still, as he tried to imagine taking this girl back to the ship, or in the alley, or anywhere really, he felt none of the usual stirring.

He gently pulled her hand off of his and put it on the bar, patting it once. “Sorry, sweetheart, I’m not in the mood today.”

She sighed and tossed her long hair over his shoulder. “That’s a shame.”

Peter turned away, attention flickering back to his… well, his Yondu. The truth was that he missed him, missed that sharp tongue and that raunchy laugh, and the way he pretended he didn’t give a shit but would do little things like push his shoulder into Peter’s when he was nervous, or distract him from whatever pain he was in with stories or heady kisses.

The girl was talking again, and it was the tone more than the words that brought Peter’s focus back to her. “I had really hoped I wouldn’t have to make a scene like this.”

“What – “ He cut himself off with a yelp, barely dodging the fist swinging at his face. “Holy fuck, woman! Have you never been rejected before?”

“Shut up, Quill,” the girl snapped, and Peter scrambled off of his stool as she pulled a knife out of a holster strapped to her side. “This’ll be so much easier if you do.”

When he hastily reached down for the blaster at his thigh he was dismayed to find nothing but an empty holster. Shit, what? He didn’t have time to figure out what the fuck had happened to it, though, as a second later the girl was lunging at him, knife glinting in the bar’s light. He jumped to the side, grabbing up the nearest stool and swinging it at her back. He hadn’t been raised a gentleman, and never pulled his punches when he was in a fight with a woman, so the stool shattered over her with the force of his swing. She careened into the floor, but used her momentum to roll back to her feet.

The woman’s eyes met his and he could have sworn they flashed completely white before she threw herself at him once more. He barely dodged her that time, felt the sting of her knife grazing his side as she passed. Thinking quickly, he spun as she moved forward, grabbing onto the thick necklace around her throat and pulling her backwards by it. She didn’t so much as scream as he yanked her to the floor.

She was quick, pausing only a second when she hit the floor before folding her body in half and kicking him in the jaw.  He was forced to reel back, losing his grip on her necklace, and she was able to roll to her feet. The breath left him as a knee landed in his stomach, causing him to huff and double over. The woman jumped at his back, and he jerked to the side, spinning his body and using the momentum to jab his elbow sharply into her spine. He caught a fistful of her hair as she fell and brought his knee up to her face, the sharp crack of her nose indicating that he’d broken it.

He had no idea who the fuck this person was, but she was relentless. She didn’t even acknowledge her injury, just brought her knife up and tried to embed it in the meat of his thigh. How the fuck was he supposed to subdue her? She was stronger than she looked, ripping herself out of his grip every time he managed to get ahold of her. People in the bar were scrambling away, screaming about calling Nova, dropping their glasses to the floor as they dodged the fight.

The next punch she threw at him hit home, right in his side, but he grabbed onto her arm and used it to swing her up in the air to land on the bar with the crash of shattering glass. She did shriek, then, as the broken pieces of glass dug into her back and her blood smeared the bar. Peter noticed as he shoved her off the other side that she had _his_ blaster strapped to a holster on her side. Sneaky fucker.

While she busied herself with trying to get up and the bartender ran over to the holophone behind the counter (probably to call the Nova officers in the area, dammit, and his record had been so squeaky clean) Peter looked around for something he could use as a weapon. Fists weren’t doing it, clearly; she was just brushing off his hits like they were nothing.

His eyes fell on the broken bits of stool, and that was just going to have to do because she was already launching herself back over the bar, unheeding of the seeping wounds covering her body. He snatched up two of the longer pieces and stood, legs spread, bracing himself for impact.

“Come on, bitch, let’s do this,” he hissed, and she didn’t disappoint.

The sharp crack of the stool leg on her bare thigh rang out through the room and she snarled, whirling around to lock eyes with Peter, clearly frustrated with how well he was dodging her. She came at him again, and he used the other stool piece to whack her on her lower back as he spun to the side. The goal was to piss her right the fuck off, because people were sloppy as all hell when they were angry. As she shrieked and bolted for him again and he whirled to the side with a hard hit to her hip he knew it was working.

As she came at him for what would be the last time, he dropped one of the stool legs and gripped the other in both hands, imagining her head was a giant baseball. She was too angry to hesitate, probably didn’t even see how he braced his legs on the floor, knees bent, ready for one hell of a hit. Undoubtedly she noticed when he bunched up his body, reeling back with the makeshift bat and then swinging forward with the whole force of his weight behind it. It was a beautiful hit, landing right on her left cheek and sending her sprawling, green blood spraying out into the screaming crowd.

He huffed and spit out a little glob of blood from when she’d kicked him in the face before moving over to her prone form. His boots crunched in the broken glass all over the floor and people shrunk back from him as if he was going to go fucking crazy and kill them all, which was ridiculous. She’d started it, dammit! When he’d made it over to her he nudged her side with the toe of his boot, making sure she didn’t move before letting his guard down and dropping the stool leg. He bent down to pull his blaster out of her holster, and that was a fucking mistake.

She jerked to life as he unclipped the weapon, wasting no time bringing up her knife and running it through Peter’s calf. Peter screamed as the metal ripped through his flesh, dropping to one knee. As she yanked it out he flicked on his blaster, not hesitating for a second as he aimed it at her face and fired of two shots, the first to kill her and the second because he was fucking pissed off.

“ _S-stay where you are!”_ the bartender yelled, and when Peter turned he saw that the guy was holding up the sharp end of one of the broken stool pieces in trembling hands.

Peter raised an eyebrow and pulled himself to his feet, covering up his unsteadiness from his dripping calf wound with practiced ease. The man shrunk back, eyeing Peter’s hulking form up and down, the stool leg drooping in his hands. “First of all, she started it so don’t give me that shit. Second of all, I don’t know if you’re brave or stupid, but I’m the guy who just shot someone in the face right there and you’re threatening me with a stick?”

The wood clattered to the floor and Peter smirked, turning on his heel and making his way through the crowd who parted for him like the goddamn red sea. His leg was in _agony_ , and he barely made it back to the ship before it collapsed under him, sending him clattering to the floor at the top of the ramp. It was only a second before the noise drew someone out, and Peter was grateful that it was Gamora who found him.

“Peter!” she yelped, jogging over and kneeling down beside him. “What happened?”

Peter grunted leaning down and pulling up his pant leg so they could look at the hole in his calf. The weapon had gone clean through, but it was slim and her aim had been hasty so he didn’t think it had hit bone or anything. Still, the wound was gushing, and when he looked back he saw that he’d left a grisly trail of blood behind him.

“Some bitch attacked me! And, no, I don’t know why. I’ve never seen that chick before. She asked if I wanted to fuck, I told her no, and next thing I knew she was trying to kill me.”

Gamora raised an eyebrow at him, the look telling him in no uncertain terms that there was no way she believed that. He didn’t have time to argue, though. “Look, it got ugly, okay? I’m pretty sure Nova got called so we need to get the fuck out of here before they show up and arrest me.”

“Quill! You _just_ got your record expunged!” Gamora hissed, reaching down to wrap one of his arms over her shoulders and help him to his feet anyway.

“I know I did, that’s why we gotta get the fuck out of here! Were you even listening to me?”

The others were on the ship already, and as Gamora half-dragged him into the cockpit they noticed his injury and trailed after. He grunted as Gamora deposited him unceremoniously into a chair and made her way hastily to the front.

“Quill! What the fuck happened to you? You’re bleeding all over my ship!” Rocket snapped.

“Rocket we don’t have time. We need to leave _now_ ,” Gamora snapped, and Rocket must have heard the urgency in her tone because he was in the pilot’s seat in seconds.

Peter pulled up the leg on his pants to examine the wound again. “First of all, this is _my_ ship, jackass! Second of all, I don’t know what the fuck happened. Some chick just attacked me!”

Drax came up beside him and rested one massive hand on the back of Peter’s chair. “Did you insult her honor, friend? We have talked about this.”

Peter turned to glare at the hulking man as the ship whirred to life, floor lurching as it rose into the air. “You guys have a real low opinion of me, did you know that? I am _insulted._ ”

A high-pitched gasp echoed through the room, followed by the unmistakable sound of Groot’s little feet pitter-pattering hastily across the floor. The little guy skidded to a stop next to Peter’s calf, mouth agape as he stared at the wound. When he looked up at Peter those huge eyes were welling with tears.

“I am Groot?” he asked.

Peter reached down for Groot’s extended hands and pulled him up into his lap, wiping away a little escaped tear with his forefinger. “No, I’m not gonna die, buddy! I’ve gotten way worse from girls in bars before, believe me.”

Groot sniffled and pulled himself up onto Peter’s shoulder, where he wrapped some of his vines gently around Peter’s neck and snuggled in. Peter brought one of his hands up to cradle the little guy as Drax wandered off to find the first aid kit. He felt more than a little troubled by what had just happened. The more he tried to place that girl’s face the more sure he became that he had never seen her before, and that was scary as hell because she’d said his _name_. It wasn’t impossible that she knew his face because of the battle for Xandar, but she wasn’t just some stranger in a bar who had recognized him. He was absolutely positive that she’d been there specifically to find him, which meant that she was tracking them, which in all likelihood meant that there was someone out there who wanted him dead. He was positive she was working for someone else, because it took either a wicked grudge or a great bribe to track someone you didn’t know across the galaxy and take them out.

Who, though? Maybe there was a bounty on his head he didn’t know about?

He really needed to call Stakar.


	2. How Did You Love?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo-hoo!! I'm so excited that you guys are still here for this! Let's kick it off, yeah?

Peter huffed as he propped his bandaged leg up on the table. _Elevate_ , Gamora had warned him once Drax was done stitching the wounds together. Two days later and she had forced him to stay on the ship while they went off and worked a job – which, not fucking fair. He wasn’t a damn invalid! It wasn’t _his_ fault that he’d popped the stitches on the first day. Groot had stolen his Walkman! Gamora had been livid when she walked in on him holding the tape player gleefully aloft, blood seeping through his pants.

“Fuckin’ mother hen,” he mumbled, pulling the dial pad for the comm over and flicking to Stakar’s contact info.

It only rang twice before the screen flickered and Stakar’s face showed up on the screen. “Hey, kid, long time no see!”

Peter leaned back in his chair, grinning cheekily. “Sorry, pops, you know how it is. Busy single-handedly saving the galaxy and all. Don’t got much time for chit-chat these days.”

Stakar rolled his eyes heavenward. “Stars, there goes that ego a yours. Always told ya you were gonna get such a big head you’d float right off into space.”

“Is it _really_ an ego problem if I’m _actually_ this awesome?” Peter asked, pulling over his flask and taking a swig. He was _medicating_ , alright?

“You – “ Stakar cut himself off, raising his hand off-screen. Peter heard the unmistakable sound of blaster fire and raised his eyebrow. “Crux! That fuck’s getting away! Dammit, just – I gotta do everything myself I fucking swear.”

Two more shots rang out before Stakar nodded once and turned back to Peter. “The hell happened to your leg, kid?”

Peter’s eyebrow hiked ever so slightly higher. “Um, are we not gonna talk about how you just shot someone down in the middle of my call?”

His dad’s sharp laugh rang out and Peter felt his lips turn up in a little grin, making a note to call more often. He hadn’t realized how much he was missing his old man. Stakar winked at him, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Par for the course, right? This job’s pretty easy. Just a bunch of young punks hanging around this town lately making trouble. Guess they did somethin’ pretty bad to some princess, I dunno, but they’re paying us pretty well to take em out. I’d feel worse, but they killed two of my men already, so, you know, gotta do what I gotta do.”

“So, what, you’re just running through town taking out any kids who look suspicious?” Peter asked incredulously.

Stakar leveled him with a look that said _‘you fucking idiot, did I really raise you?’_ “Fuck no, who the hell do you think I am? First of all, I never said kids. I ain’t no kid killer. Second of all, of course I’m not just killin’ whoever. They’re some kinda gang; they’ve got matching jewelry and everything. Real cute, but also real stupid, because it makes em easy to hunt down. _Anyway_. Stop changing the subject. What happened to your leg?”

 “Some Aakonian chick attacked me a couple days back,” Peter sighed, slumping down in his seat.

“What? I thought you and Yondu had a _thing_ going. What’re you doing sleeping around?” Stakar asked, frowning. “Yondu’s gonna kill you.”

Peter tossed his hands up in the air in a huff. “Why the actual fuck does everyone think I screwed around with this chick? _First of all_ , I didn’t, so fuck you guys. _Second of all,_ Yondu and I aren’t, you know, _together._ ” He paused, mood deflating. “We’re just… I dunno. Something.”

When he looked up he saw that Stakar was pursing his lips thoughtfully, gaze soft, and it made him uncomfortable. He didn’t want pity! When Stakar spoke his voice was quiet. “Are you okay, Pete? I know I wasn’t always the most approachable, but you know you can talk to me, right?”

“The only thing I need to talk about is whether or not you know anything about a hit being put out on me,” Peter said, averting his gaze from the pressure of Stakar’s eyes. “That chick knew me, waited for me to be alone before she attacked. I think she was hired to come find me.”

Stakar hummed thoughtfully. “I haven’t heard anything, but I’ll do some digging. Someone’s got a hit out on you they’re gonna be in for a rude fucking awakening, I’ll tell ya that.”

“Thanks, Pops,” Peter said, looking back up, relieved when he saw that the soft look was gone. It wasn’t so much that the concern made him uncomfortable as it was that he wasn’t ready to deal with the situation.

Stakar looked like he was about to say something else, but at that moment an explosion rang out behind him, causing him to duck and cover his head with his arm. Peter caught a glimpse of fire and dust settling before Stakar’s face took up the screen once more. “Fuck! I gotta go. Just – keep in touch, alright? And call Yondu, you stubborn idiot!”

There was no time to reply before the connection cut off. Peter sighed and dropped his head onto the back of his seat. Maybe he _was_ being stubborn. Yondu had really opened up to him, which Peter knew for a fact was one of the hardest things for the prickly captain to do, and then Peter had just up and left. Should he really expect Yondu to be the one to get in touch?

 What if Yondu didn’t want him, though? Being in love with someone and wanting to _be_ with that someone were two very different things. He groaned and scrubbed at his scruffy cheek.

“Dammit,” he hissed.

\------

_ Yondu _

Yondu sighed and rubbed at his temple, the little headache there growing worse by the second. It felt to him like the past few months had been one long steady string of shitty days. He’d been secretly longing for _years_ to be taken back into the fold, to be a full-fledged Ravager captain again. The problem was, he’d never stopped to consider the way his men would feel about it. Most of them had left with him when he’d broken the code, or else been picked up when they were already on their own. They’d lived for years without the heavy hand of Stakar’s code, doing what they wanted, living so far outside the law they were like a world unto their own. He should have expected the transition back into the fold to be difficult, in retrospect, but he hadn’t and therefore was completely unprepared for the backlash he was receiving.

Just that day he’d had to put one of his men in the brig for killing an innocent – some three-year-old Asgavarian kid who had gotten in his way on a heist. There had been news footage of it, of the kid falling down and tripping Krill. The man had pulled himself to his feet, kicked the kid in the stomach, and then just… shot him between the eyes. Yondu never would have allowed that even without Stakar’s code. They were pirates, not fucking monsters. Now he was going to have to publically execute him, make an example of him, and he really hated doing that.

The restlessness among his men was growing every day, though, a steadily rising tension as the men chaffed under the pressure of no longer being left to their own devices. He could feel it pulling them all apart, could tell that the men were already dividing themselves into two groups: one group loyal to Yondu and happy to follow his lead, and the other longing to be feral again.

He slumped down on his bed, thighs spread, and rested his elbows on his knees. As he’d often found himself doing lately, Yondu rolled the little sloth figurine between his fingers. If he was being honest, it wasn’t just the restlessness of the men that was bothering him. They’d been restless for _years_ , really, so what else was new? In truth, he missed his boy. He missed that bouncing restless energy, the determined set of his jaw when he set his mind to something, that endless bubbling chatter. He missed kissing him, pushing him into dark corners, pulling a delighted laugh from those pink lips as he unbuttoned his tight pants, missed his breathy moans and his dirty smirks.

Now that he’d admitted out loud that he loved the boy, it was like all of the feelings he’d been so good at holding back for so long could no longer be contained. He felt Peter’s absence like a constant ache in his chest, heavy and dark, and the thought rankled him. Yondu didn’t _need_ anyone else. That’s who he was, strong and independent, able to rely on only himself. He never would have thought that life could seem so… grey without Peter’s bright presence, but it did and that truthfully made Yondu a little angry.

His comm lit up with an incoming call, and the way his heart leapt in his chest when he saw who it was from frustrated him, too. He pushed the sloth under his bed before flicking up the screen to hover in front of him. Much as he wanted to, he couldn’t resist the way something soothed within him at the sight of his Terran, sprawled with one leg propped up on a table, all his bulk laid out for Yondu to feast his eyes on.

“Hey baby,” Peter started, and even Yondu could see how nervous he was, uncharacteristically reserved.

“Chu doin’, boy? Stayin’ outta trouble?”

Peter laughed in that sharp unreserved way he had, grin stretching to his eyes as whatever negative emotion he was feeling seeped out of him. “Stay out of trouble? That doesn’t much sound like me, does it?”

Yondu’s eyes roved down Peter’s body, head to toes and back up again, noting the injury on his propped up calf, lingering briefly on the bulge between those thick spread thighs. He knew Peter noticed by the way the other man squirmed in his seat. “Y’know, that’s a mighty fine picture you laid out for me.”

“Oh, yeah?” Peter asked, grin shifting to something darker as he leaned back more, raising one arm above his head and trailing the other down his neck.

It was Yondu’s turn to shift, heat pooling in his belly at the sight. “Yeah. I can think of a few things to make it better, though.”

The way Peter bit his lip and trailed that wandering hand down to stroke at the exposed strip of skin between his shirt and pants went straight to Yondu’s cock. He spread his thighs a little more, leaning back so that his Terran could see the way it was already effecting him. Peter huffed out a little breath, pupils blown. “Can you? Why don’t you tell me about em?”

Yondu’s tongue darted out to wet his lips and he shrugged off his coat, not missing the way Peter’s hips shifted forward in anticipation at the action. “Less clothes, for one thing. Wanna see that body laid out for me real pretty.”

Peter’s shirt was off in an instant, his thick hairy chest on display, long body stretched out for Yondu’s perusal. “Good boy. Wanna lick that whole body, Pete, run my tongue from top to bottom until yer beggin’ fer more.”

His boy whimpered, hand drifting down to rub at his clothed cock, hips shifting forward. “What else?”

“I wanna rip those stupid pants off, spread you out before me like a goddamn feast,” Yondu panted, unable to help pressing his hand into his straining dick as Peter scrambled to pull his pants down, struggling for only a moment when it came to his wounded calf before propping himself up once more. Yondu’s eyes roved over his Terran. Fuck, he missed that body; wanted those big hands on him, those lips, those thick thighs wrapped around his waist.

Yondu unzipped his own pants, pulling out his aching cock and relishing the way that Peter’s eyes flickered to it, hips canting ever so slightly, a pretty pink flush spreading up his chest and neck. “Then I’d take that perfect cock in my mouth, suck you down until you scream.”

Peter moaned, hastily reaching back behind him for something, almost falling out of his chair in his eagerness. When he settled back in his seat Yondu saw that he had a jar of some kind of oil, which he ripped the lid off of and tossed unceremoniously over his shoulder before dipping his hand in. Yondu groaned, dropping back to find his own bottle of lube. When he looked back he saw that Peter had his slick hand wrapped around his cock, watching Yondu with intent eyes.

“Did I say you could touch yerself, boy?” Yondu husked, pleased when Peter immediately dropped his member. “Good, Pete. Spread those legs.”

Peter did, excitement clear in the sparkle of his eye and the hastiness of his movements. “What now, baby?”

“Slick up yer fingers real nice – that’s it.” Yondu dribbled some of his own lube into his palm and slicked himself up, a low groan slipping from his lips as Peter’s eyes tracked the motion. “Now fuck yerself on em, boy.”

Peter moaned, slipping down further in his chair so that Yondu could watch as he slowly pushed his fingers inside that ring of muscle. The sight made Yondu’s hips buck, cock slipping between the slick circle of his fingers.

“Yondu – ah – so fucking hot. What now? What do you want?”

“I wanna bend you over that table and fuck you – hng – take you so hard you see stars,” Yondu groaned, his pulls coming faster as Peter bore down on his own fingers, muscles bunching with the strain, skin glistening with sweat. “Pick up yer cock. Wanna see you come all over yerself.”

Peter slicked up his other hand, never stopping his hips thrusting onto his fingers, before wrapping it around himself and starting to stroke. Yondu drank in the sight, his own hips canting forward, imagining all the things he’d be doing to his boy if he was spread out before him like this. It only took a few more strokes for Peter, who tossed his head back and cried out as he came, thick white cum splashing onto his chest. The sight sent Yondu over the edge, too, and he finished with a jerk of his hips and a guttural moan.

He reached down for a shirt and cleaned off his hand as Peter wiped down his chest and slipped his sweat pants back on. That had been unexpected, but Yondu was feeling a little bit lighter already. Peter sat back down, shirtless, and gingerly pulled his leg back up to rest on the table before leveling Yondu with a cocky grin.

“Well hello to you, too.”

Yondu snorted, leaning back on his hands and watching his boy. “What happened?” he asked, indicating Peter’s injury with a nod of his head.

Peter deflated, dropping his arms into his lap with a sigh. “Some chick in a bar attacked me a couple days ago.”

The ache was immediate, a sharp pang through his heart that made his nostrils flare. So Peter was, what, sleeping his way across the galaxy again? That pissed Yondu right the fuck off, anger covering up the hurt he was feeling because that was just how he operated. He wasn’t just angry at _Peter_ , but at _himself_ for being fucking stupid enough to let his guard down and –

Peter noticed his darkening mood and raised his hands in surrender. “Hey, whoa, don’t look at me like that! I didn’t – jesus, you too? All you people have such low opinions of me, I swear to fuck! I didn’t _sleep with her_ , alright? She just attacked me for no reason.”

It was too late. It didn’t matter. He did not like how one sentence from his boy could injure him so easily, didn’t like the way it made him feel open and vulnerable in half a second. He didn’t like the way he was always aching without Peter with him, didn’t like how he sometimes found himself wanting to say fuck everything and track him down. His defenses were up in an instant, and he shuttered his gaze.

“Don’t matter to me none. You can fuck who ya want, Quill, I ain’t never said ya couldn’t.”

Peter gaped at him for just a moment before anger slipped over his features and he placed both feet on the floor. Yondu almost flinched when his boy leaned forward in his seat, livid sneer pulling his lips back. “Oh yeah? Well – well – fuck! Goddammit, Yondu. Just – ugh! Whatever. Bye.”

The display flickered out and Yondu dropped his head into his hands, staving off the pang of regret.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone else wanna sing the angst song with me? Saying "I love you" doesn't change a person over night. If it did, there wouldn't be a sequel! Don't worry, though, they're smarter than they look <3


	3. Pour Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's five AM here and I couldn't sleep.... so to my sleep-deprived brain this looked good but I offer no promises that it really is haha. If you catch and glaringly obvious mistakes, let me know! Thanks for the comments, guys, you know how they inspire me!! You're the best!  
> The song this time is "Pour Me" by Hollywood Undead. I adore this song, guys!

Peter hadn’t moved from his spot at the kitchen table other than to clean himself off and slip his shirt back on. Now he was sprawled out like before, one foot on the floor and the other resting on the tabletop.

When he’d called Yondu, his intent had really been just to talk. They needed it, he knew, because he couldn’t take this uncertainty forever. Peter wanted Yondu fiercely, wanted to be able to openly love him, wanted to be able to call him his. It was becoming increasingly obvious that he wasn’t going to be able to be in this weird feelings purgatory for too much longer. It was making him restless, making him testy and reckless and all the things he’d been trying to stop being for so long.

Not for the first time since he’d hung up on the captain, he wished that things had gone differently. If they’d talked instead of jumping right into comm sex (which, by the way, hot as all fuck), maybe it could have ended differently. He’d planned to ask Yondu to meet up with him. The words, however, had died on his tongue as those crimson eyes he hadn’t seen in months dipped down, as that blue tongue darted out to wet Yondu’s lips. Peter _missed him_ , missed feeling that powerful body pressed against his, missed being inside of him.

Still, he should have kept it in his damn pants for ten seconds and had a real conversation. He hadn’t though, and so here he was getting fucked up in the kitchen of the _Milano_ , more unsure than ever about where he stood.

“Fuck whoever ya want, Quill, I ain’t never said ya couldn’t,” Peter mocked, taking another swig from the bottle of liquor he’d found (his flask had been empty for an hour already). “The fuck’s that supposed to mean? I can’t fuck whoever I want, because he’s a fucking _emotionally frozen blue asshole_!”

“Oh my god, Quill, you are disgusting!” Rocket hissed, and Peter jumped at the unexpected intrusion, barely managing to keep his balance in his chair.

“Wha? What’d I do now?” Peter slurred, head swiveling to watch the raccoon wander into the room.

Rocket snorted, bending down to pick up the lid to the jar of oil Peter had used earlier. “The thing about me is, I got a real sensitive sense of smell.”

It took Peter a moment to wrap his mind around what that was supposed to mean, but when it finally registered heat spread immediately up his neck and into his cheeks. “I didn’t – we just – dude, tha’s really fuckin’ creepy!”

“What’s _creepy_ ,” Rocket started, hopping up on his chair and grabbing the bottle out of Peter’s hand. “Is that you’re getting your damn rocks off with that ugly old blue fuck at the damn table. We _eat_ here! And you people call _me_ an animal.”

Peter spluttered, unable to spit out one of the many replies scrambling for purchase in his mind. What he finally settled on was, “Yondu’s not _ugly_ , you jerk!” which was fucking stupid and not at all what he’d meant to say. Rocket leveled him with a highly disgusted look before tipping back the bottle and taking a much larger drink than Peter would have thought the little guy capable of.

“I repeat: you’re disgusting.”

“Whatever. Don’t matter now anyway,” Peter sighed, reaching with clumsy fingers for the bottle. Rocket took one more swig before handing it over. If he noticed how much of the liquid dribbled down Peter’s chin he didn’t comment.

“Trouble in paradise?” he asked instead, snatching the bottle away from Peter again before leaning back in his chair and taking another long pull.

Peter frowned, trying to think past the alcohol soaking his brain. “Yondu’s just… and I’m just - ugh!” He tossed up his hands, irritated with his inability to put his thoughts into words, and glared at Rocket. “I dunno! Why th’fuck do you care anyway?”

Rocket laughed derisively and Peter bristled. “Oh, I don’t give a fuck. Just wanted to see that _pathetic_ look on your face. That geriatric weirdo’s probably only got a few more years left in him anyway – might as well let him go.”

“Yondu’s not _geriatric_! And you’re a fucking asshole,” Peter snapped, stumbling to his feet and sending his chair crashing to the ground. “Why you gotta try so hard t’piss everyone off all the time?”

“What can I say? I don’t like anyone enough to be _nice_ to ‘em,” Rocket sniffed, turning away and taking another drink.

Peter glared in the general direction of the raccoon, flipping him the finger. “Well no one’s gonna like you if yer always such a – a – asshat!”

Rocket snorted. “Go lay down before you hurt yourself, ya big pink monkey.”

“ _You_ go lay down!” Peter snapped, spinning on his heel anyway and stumbling out of the room. Fucking Rocket. Yondu wasn’t _old_ , and okay maybe objectively he was a little ugly, but not to Peter. Rocket was a dick. A fuzzy little dick.

“Ha, _fuzzy dick_ ,” Peter mumbled. He was too drunk, too preoccupied with his angry churning thoughts and didn’t notice Drax’s hulking form in the hallway until he’d run headfirst into his back. Strong hands reached out to steady him as he slipped backwards, more than a little unsteady on his feet.

“Quill! Did Rocket talk to you?” Drax asked, and Peter made a truly admirable effort to focus on his face but had there always been two of them?

“Yeah he did, the asshole! He’s a _jerk_ , Drax. All raccoons’r jerks,” he slurred, reaching out to steady himself with a hand on Drax’s rock hard chest. Wow, how was it possible to have muscles that hard? Was that a species thing? Was it just an angry revenge driven alien thing?

“Are you intoxicated?” Drax asked, and Peter laughed.

“No, no, no, that’d be stupid. Tell me bout the mission, buddy. What happened?”

Drax looked down at where Peter’s fingers were poking at his muscles, incredulous. “Rocket was supposed to tell you – stop that, I have sensitive nipples!”

Peter choked on his laugh, dropping his head onto Drax’s chest, shoulders heaving with mirth. “Y-you have sensitive _nipples?_ Big manly warrior, ticklish nipples. _Hahahahaha!_ ”

“It is not – no, stop _touching_ them – it is not shameful. Many men have sensitive nipples!” He grabbed Peter’s wrists to still him, huffing. “Stop this. You need to hear what happened on the mission, Quill.”

Peter pulled back so he could look in Drax’s eyes, trying valiantly to quiet his laughter. “Kay, okay. I’m list’ning.”

“Before we could kill the beast, two men showed up. They _asked for you_. We told them that you were not there, and they attacked us. It was child’s play to kill them – I am much stronger than two puny Draconians – but Gamora insisted that we tell you they were searching for you.”

Peter needed to focus. This was _important_.

Why?

Oh, right!

“Th’ Aakonian chick! The one I _did not fuck_ who tried t’kill me!” Peter shouted, grinning. “Told you so! _Told you_ someone was after me.”

“Why are you smiling? Is it not a bad thing to have people trying to kill you?” Drax asked, frowning.

“No, no, very bad. Yeah. Totally bad.” Peter nodded, trying to put on a serious face. “But, y’know, _good_ coz it proves I didn’t fuck her.”

Drax was looking concerned, having to grip Peter’s arms tighter with every passing second to keep him from falling over. “You are very drunk, Quill. I am taking you to bed.”

Peter had no choice other than to allow himself to be pushed down the short hallway, was too drunk and not strong enough to resist the larger man. “Y’can’t take me to _bed,_ Drax! I’m in a _relationship._ Well, no’m not. But I wanna be. Tha’s the same thing, right?”

He craned his neck back so he could look at his friend’s hulking form. “’Sides, I think you’d break me. Yer _big_ , did’y know that?”

Drax chuckled, pushing Peter into his room and onto his bed. “I am aware of my size, companion. Hold still while I get your boots off.”

Peter dropped back onto the bed, room spinning, and when he opened his eyes again he was bootless, jacketless, and alone, tucked under his covers. A quick look to his chronometer and the way the room was still spinning around him assured him that it hadn’t been long – an hour, tops. He groaned and sat up, nearly falling back but managing to pull himself unsteadily to his feet.

There was a canteen of water at the little desk in his quarters, and he snatched it up before dropping into the chair. He sighed and took a long pull of the drink, eyeing the dial pad for his comm. The _tap-tap-tap_ of his fingers on the metal tabletop was the only sound in the room for several minutes. His drunk self was warring with his sober self; he knew what he was about to do was monumentally stupid, knew he’d never do it if he were sober.

“Liquid courage,” he mumbled, pulling the dial pad over and punching in the code he needed.

Yondu didn’t answer, and that was fucking _rude._ What time was it?

Oh, right, late.

Still! They lived on _spaceships_. Who _cared_ what time it was?

He huffed as the machine’s message played, some standard shit Yondu had never bothered to change.

“You! You big – big – _blue jerk!_ I didn’t fuck her, kay?” He leaned unsteadily back in his seat and crossed his arms. “I don’t _wanna_ fuck anyone else, but yer so – I dunno – hard! No, wait. That sounds bad. Yer _emotionally constipated_. Ha! Yeah. That. Can’t shit emotions.”

He frowned, humor gone in an instant, leaning forward and dropping his chin into his propped up hand. “I miss you. N’I know it’s not somethin’ you like’t hear, but I love you. And I miss you. Did I say that? And people are tryna kill me, baby, I dunno who they are but they tried twice now. I’m jus’ _tired_ , and you’re _mean_ , and I wanna fuck you so bad.”

Peter sighed, eyes drooping. “I love you. Please don’t shut me out again,” he mumbled before reaching up and clicking off the connection.

The next thing he knew he’d somehow made it back into bed, naked except for his tight black underwear. He shrugged and rolled onto his stomach, clutching his pillow and burying his face in it as he passed into a restless sleep.

\------

Peter wasn’t sure whether he was happy or upset that Yondu hadn’t called him back by the next morning, but he sincerely wished that he was the type of person to forget being that extremely drunk. He wasn’t one of the blessed few, however, and so had the joy of running through the night’s events over and over while he sipped groggily at his coffee. He wondered if Yondu was angrier than before, wondered if his message had done nothing other than spur the man’s ire. With his damn luck it wasn’t unlikely.

He looked up as Drax entered, grateful that the man was not the type to tease over something like the display Peter had put on the night before. Peter waited until the other man had grabbed a few pieces of fruit and sat down across from him at the table before he cleared his thick throat.

“Hey, uh, thanks man. You know, for getting my drunk ass to be last night. I appreciate it.” He took a burning sip of coffee. “Not sorry about the nipple thing, though. Come on, really?”

Drax bit down on the pink fruit in his hand, taking half of the roughly pear shaped fruit down in one crunch. “You are welcome, friend,” he said, words surprisingly audible even over his mouthful of food. He chewed thoughtfully and swallowed before frowning and looking meaningfully at Peter.

“I did not know you were in a relationship. Who is this person and why did we not know about them?”

Peter groaned and sunk down in his seat. “It’s no one, man. I’m not seeing anyone. I was just drunk and being stupid. Just… let’s forget that happened, alright?”

“I cannot forget things on command, Quill.” Drax’s frown deepened, expression turning thoughtful, and Peter let out a silent sigh. “Is that a human trait? It sounds useful.”

“It’s not – you don’t _literally_ forget. It just means to pretend something didn’t happen, to not talk about it anymore.” He paused to take another sip of coffee, frowning into his cup when he saw it was empty. “We really need to work on your figurative language skills. Gotta tell ya, buddy, they’re pretty fucking bad.”

Gamora wandered into the kitchen then, walking over to Peter and plucking his cup out of his hand so she could go re-fill it. When she placed it silently back in front of him and took a seat next to Drax Peter raised the cup to his nose and inhaled, eyes drifting shut. “Bless you.”

“Drax tells me that you were inebriated when we got back last night,” she started, and Peter tried to hold in his groan at the lecture he knew was coming. “Alcohol thins the blood, Peter, what if it made your wound worse? Also, what if we’d been in trouble when we got back, if we needed to make a hasty get-away and you were the only one who could fly? That was reckless.”

“Look, my wound is like half-healed already,” Peter said, propping his leg up on the table and lifting his pant leg to prove it. It was still clearly hurt, but the skin was red with healing, already starting the process of stitching itself back together. Not for the first time, he was grateful for whatever the fuck it was in his blood that made him heal more quickly than the average Terran.

“I do realize that getting wasted while you guys were on a mission was pretty stupid. I’m sorry about that. I just… there’s been a lot on my mind lately, and one thing led to another, you know?”

Gamora took one of Drax’s fruits and crossed one of her arms over her chest, biting into the sweet morsel. She didn’t say anything for a moment, just chewed and swallowed, staring at Peter in that unnerving way she had that made him feel naked. “Drax told you of the men who were looking for you yesterday?”

Peter let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. He was pretty positive that Gamora knew about his situation with Yondu, at least peripherally. She’d been the first to put it all together, after all, but he was definitely not ready to talk about it at that moment. “Yeah. Before you ask, I don’t know any Draconians, and I didn’t sleep with them. I think that whoever sent that Aakonian woman after me was responsible for them, too.”

“I believe so, too,” Gamora agreed, taking another bite of fruit and leaning back in her chair. “Do you know of anyone who would do such a thing? I could not find any bounties on your head, and neither could Rocket.”

“Neither could Stakar,” Peter sighed, staring into his cup. “I’ve been thinking about it, and there _is_ one person I can think of. This is pretty fucking ballsy for him, though, and last I saw him he sure as hell didn’t have the means to hire three people to privately come after me.”

Drax’s fist landed on the table, causing Peter to jump and Gamora to roll her eyes skyward. “Who is this person who dares to hunt the great Starlord? We are the Guardians of the Galaxy! I will kill this man for his insolence.”

“Whoa, okay, calm down there big guy,” Peter soothed, patting Drax on one of his massive forearms. “His name is Talon, and I genuinely don’t think that it could be him. He’s just the only guy I can think of with a big enough grudge against me. Besides, if he was after me he’d be after Yondu, too. Pretty sure he hates us both just as much.”

“Ugh, are we talking about your old ass sugar daddy again, Quill?” Rocket asked, terrible with his timing as per fucking usual. Peter groaned and dropped his head onto the table, wincing as the action made the ache worse.

“What is a sugar daddy?” Drax asked, and Peter closed his eyes. He was way too fucking hung-over for this shit.

\------

_ Yondu _

Yondu replayed the message for the third time, sighing. Peter was clearly fucking drunk out of his mind, but his words still sent a little pang through Yondu. He rubbed at his temple, fighting off a hangover from his drinking binge the night before. He’d have to remember to thank Kraglin somehow for dragging his drunk and raging ass to bed at whatever ungodly hour.

 _“I love you. Please don’t shut me out again,_ ” Peter’s voice said, ringing out through the room.

Was that what Yondu was doing? Shutting his boy out? He snorted, leaning back in his chair and taking a swig from his flask (what was that Terran saying? Hair of the dog?). Yeah, he guessed that was exactly what he was doing. What he’d been doing for a long time, if he were being honest with himself. This, right here, this sudden burning need to say fuck it all and run off in search of his clearly hurting Terran was exactly why he did it, though. He couldn’t afford the type of attachment he undeniably felt for Peter, and it was terrifying.

Yondu wasn’t that person – wasn’t the relationship type, the type to form this type of need for another person, the type who came when someone called. Peter had been turning everything Yondu was on his head since the second he waltzed into his life all those years ago, though. The changes had been slowly insinuating themselves into Yondu, insidious little things that were only coming out now that he’d realized how _deep_ Peter had gotten in him.

He sighed, pulling the comm over to himself despite his better judgment and typing in the code. Two rings and it picked up, Stakar’s face taking up the screen. The other captain looked slightly worse for wear, Yondu noticed, with a stitched up gash on his eyebrow and a black eye. He wasn’t able to completely hide his look of surprise at Yondu’s call.

“Yondu! To what do I owe the honor of an actual call? Actually, I was gonna call you later today so this is prefect.”

Yondu settled back in his chair, feigning a casual demeanor. “I gotta question fer ya. It’s about Pete.”

Stakar looked _knowing_ , and Yondu bristled at the expression. “Sure, whatever you wanna ask. Though you probably know him better than me at this point, so…”

“He called me last night – drunk out of his _mind,_ by the way – and said something about people try’na kill him.” He frowned and tapped his fingers on his knee. “You know anything about that?”

“Well, I know there was that girl a few days ago who got to him. He said _people_ , as in more than one?” Yondu watched him swivel in his chair and type something into a holopad on the table behind him. An image of a pretty yellow Aakonian girl sprung up to hover above the screen and Stakar hummed. “I did some digging when Peter called me the other day, and I figured out who the girl was.”

He flicked the image and his face shrunk on Yondu’s screen to make room for the rotating picture of the girl. “Her name was V’ikala, and as far as I can tell she was just a normal girl. Went to a boarding school on a different planet when she was maybe ten, and came back for college just a couple of years ago. She’s twenty-eight, got a normal apartment, a job as a waitress at a café not too far from where she tried to get to Peter. There’s _nothing_ to indicate that she might secretly be some kinda top-secret assassin.”

Yondu frowned at the image, contemplating. “You think she was some kinda Kree fanatic? Maybe she saw the news of Ronan’s fall, got angry at Pete about it.”

“I thought about that, too, but that doesn’t explain how she was strong enough to almost beat Peter in a fight. I joke about his inflated ego, but truthfully Peter’s an incredible fighter. It’d take a lot more than some angry but average girl to give him that kind of run for his money,” Stakar said, pushing the image of the girl off of the screen so his face took up the whole thing.

“I dunno what’s going on with Peter, but I’m working on it,” Stakar said, leaning back in his chair and steepling his hands over his chest. “Now, there’s somethin’ else I gotta talk to you about.”

Yondu sighed, glancing away. “If this is about Krill and that Asgavarian boy, it’s already bein’ taken care of. Got a nice public execution planned a few hours from now, in fact.”

“It’s not just about him. This isn’t the first time one of your men has done something stupid lately,” Stakar said, shifting in his seat.

“Yeah, well, I got a handle on it, alright? Don’t need you slappin’ me on th’ wrist for it. My men have been on their own for a long time. It’s gonna take a heavy hand to get them back into line, but that hand’s gonna be mine,” Yondu snapped, irritated and defensive.

“I wasn’t gonna call ya to slap you on the wrist, Yondu,” Stakar started, and when Yondu turned to look at him he noticed that the look on Stakar’s face was an uncharacteristically earnest one. “I was gonna call because I’m _worried_ about you. You’re not meeting your quota, your men are going fucking nuts, and Yondu it’s just not like you. I know I haven’t seen you in a long time, but I don’t think men like us change that much. You’re losing control, and I’m worried that someone on your crew is going to realize it.”

Stakar was _worried_ about him? That was a fucking new one. He wondered when the man had become so soft, but then his helpful brain supplied him with images of a hulking, grinning Terran and he realized that Stakar had gotten taken in by those wide smiles, by that easy laughter and restless energy just like Yondu had.

Peter Quill, taking on the galaxy one hardened Ravager captain at a time.

“I know I ain’t reachin’ my quota. I think some’a the men are stashin’. Don’t you go thinking I ain’t gonna take care of it, though. I already got one’a my trusted men on figuring out what’s going on.” Yondu cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders, pushing off the instinctive pleased feeling at hearing Stakar was concerned for him after so many years. “No one’s gonna get a chance for mutiny, trust me.”

Stakar levelled him with a heavy look, but ultimately nodded, appeased. “Just remember that we’re a _family_. I know you’ve been on your own for a long time, but me and the other captains are here for you now. You can call on any of us, just like we can call on you.”

“Yeah, I remember how it works. I ain’t that old yet,” Yondu snorted.

Stakar went to click off the comm, but hesitated at the last minute with his hand hovering over the button. “I know it’s not my business, but the kid is a mess right now, Yondu. He’s got a lot on his plate, and he’s gonna need all the support he can get. Just… well. Just remember that I guess.”

With that the connection clicked out and Yondu groaned, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table and rest his head in his hands.

Kraglin found him like that ten minutes later when he entered the room with a cup of coffee and a tray of cooked protein rations. He placed the tray on the table next to his captain’s left elbow and slid up to sit next to the right one. “What’s eatin’ ya, Cap? Quill?”

Yondu glared up at his first through his blue fingers. “Why would ya say that?”

Kraglin snorted, picking at one of his teeth with his pinkie nail. “Dunno. Could have somethin’ t’do with the fact that you didn’t talk about anythin’ else for about an hour and a half last night when you was drunk.”

The captain huffed, heat rising to his cheeks, because now that he thought about it he remembered leaning on Kraglin’s too-small frame and talking about his Terran. He was even pretty sure he’d described, in vivid detail, what it felt like to be fucked against the wall by him and how much he missed that.

“Y’know, I happen to have it on good authority that the Guardians is gonna be somewhere around Draconia in a coupla days,” Kraglin supplied, a little smirk pulling at the corner of his lips.

Yondu sighed, warring with himself. In the end, it was that needy pleading look Peter had used in his holo-message that decided it for him. He was weak, in the end, too soft towards his boy to resist the way that look pulled at his tattered heartstrings. Their situation was tenuous and volatile, but Yondu knew that he needed Peter in his arms for a few hours just as much as his Terran apparently needed to feel the same; especially after that epic fuck-up of a conversation the day before.

“I hear they got a mighty fine bank on Draconia that could use a little liberatin’,” he ventured, and he didn’t miss the way Kraglin’s smirk turned into a wide grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These two are pretty damn emotional for hardened space pirates, huh? Crazy boys. They need to figure their shit out!


	4. Something Just Like This

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! Sorry this took soooo long! We had some unexpected house guests (still do, actually), and then we went on a much needed vacation! Here's an extra long update as a sorry <3   
> Thank you so much for your reviews!! They keep me going, guys!

Peter, it turned out, _loathed_ Draconia.

  
“Who the actual fuck would want to live here? It’s like Satan made love to the Sahara Desert and this planet was the result,” he griped, wiping the sweat out of his eyes for what felt like the hundredth time.

The plan had been to get planet-side and see if they could find out anything about the Draconian kamikaze twins who had attacked the other guardians on their last job. _Apparently_ though, being dickwads was more of a species thing than a person specific thing when it came to Draconians. Rocket had barely pulled them out of the jump when some angry fuck patrol had hooked their ship, babbling over the comm about intruders and visiting visas or whatever. It was hard to understand them even with his translator because of their weird lipless lizard mouths, but the gist of what Peter had understood was that no one was allowed to visit their planet with their own ship; instead, there was some kind of system in place that bussed people on and off the planet.

Peter had no goddamn clue how they were supposed to know that, and he was already in a piss-ass mood from another monster hangover, so when it looked like they were about to get arrested for leaving a goddamn jump he’d been ready to throw down. When it became clear that he was going to be more of a hindrance than a help to the situation Drax had slapped a hand over his mouth and yanked him out of the room to leave Gamora in charge of the talk. Gamora, weirdly the most politically correct out of the group (and what the fuck was up with that? She’d been raised by a psychopath hell-bent on taking over the galaxy! How was it possible that she was the most even tempered?), had been able to convince the authorities to let them go with the promise that they’d pursue the correct visiting protocol.

None of the Guardians had any intention of ‘pursuing the correct visiting protocol’, but now Peter wished they had considered it because here they were trekking through the devils’ goddamn ass crack. They’d had to go dark – using some cloaking device Rocket had put together after seeing Stakar’s Rigillian stealth ship – and park themselves a few miles outside of the city to avoid detection.

Hence their trek through the driest fucking desert Peter had ever had the misfortune to come upon.

“There are _two suns._ How is that even physically possible?” he hissed, peeling off his jacket – which, smart fucking move leaving that on – and draping it over his head to prevent some terrible blistering sunburns.

“Ugh! Shut the _fuck_ up, Quill! You’re such a goddamn baby. Some of us are _covered in freakin’ fur_ , and you don’t see us cryin’ about it!” Rocket snarled. His fur was so soaked with sweat that it was slicked down over his body, and if Peter hadn’t been in such a shitty ass mood because of this ridiculous heat he would have found it comical.

He _was_ in a shitty mood, however, and so tossed up his hands in frustration. “Well _excuse me_ , you furry little jackass! At least your fur protects you from goddamn third degree burns! _Some of us_ aren’t meant to be in the fucking sun like this!”

Gamora, who had been silent the entire trek thus far, growled as she spun on her heel to face them. She stomped, and the action sent up a puff of billowing red dirt. “Can’t you two cease your bickering for _five minutes?_ ”

 _“No!_ ” Peter and Rocket snapped at the same time, twin snarls on their lips, both with fists clenched firmly at their sides.

“I do not see what is so wrong with this planet. The weather is pleasant, and a person could see an approaching enemy for miles,” Drax ventured, and the other three leveled him with a set of truly unimpressed glares. Drax looked from one face to the next, brow creased in a perplexed frown.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Peter felt a rustling at the pocket on his calf and looked down to see Groot pulling himself out of his hiding place there. His one leaf was beginning to wilt, and his droopy eyes were half closed as he draped himself over the fabric as if he couldn’t quite hold up the weight of his head. When he spoke, his voice was thin and papery, like the scraping of dry bark. “I am Groot.”

Peter sighed and reached down to gently stroke one dry cheek, ire forgotten in the face of the little one’s clear distress. “Yeah, I know buddy. Just stay out of the sun, kay? We’ll get you some water soon, I promise,” he soothed, poking the top of Groot’s head until he slumped back down into the shad of the pocket. When he was fully back in Peter made sure the top of the pouch was shut and wiped the sweat out of his eyes once more.

“Alright, Gamora’s right. This is stupid. It’s hot, I’m tired, and there’s no fucking point in fighting like this right now. Let’s just get going before Groot turns into kindling.”

If there was one thing that they all unanimously agreed on (even though Drax pretended otherwise), it was that Groot was a precious little innocent who needed to be protected at all costs, and so the rest of their hike was spent in silence but for the puffing of their labored breaths.

Peter had no idea how long their scorching walk ended up lasting, but it felt like a goddamn eternity and by the time they reached the city’s outskirts he was in a foul mood. He groaned as soft puffing dirt turned into hard pavement, pulling at the hem of his shirt to try and get some air flow.

“Oh, the filthy shit I’d do for a drink of water right now.”

The buildings around them were entirely residential this far out into the city, a sprawling maze of what looked like red mud huts with thatched roofing. They tried to stay in the shadows as much as possible, but the architecture was low to the ground to accommodate a species with such a short stature, and with two suns above them they were pretty damn hard pressed to find a place where one of them wasn’t baking down on them.

People were laying on their roofs to bake in the sun, and Peter couldn’t tell if they were watching him pass or if blinking just wasn’t something they did as a species. He gave up trying to figure it out when he caught someone’s eye and a long pink tongue darted out to lick over the entire eyeball. Peter repressed a gag and turned his attention to the street in front of him. Generally he was an equal opportunist when it came to people, had fucked pretty much every species he’d come across in fact, but there was something so _unnerving_ about the way Draconians spoke, about the reptilian habits they seemed to have. It gave him the freaking creeps.

 _Finally_ they reached the city center, and Peter breathed a little sigh of relief when he realized that it was a more familiar and size appropriate metropolis than the residential area surrounding it would have suggested. Although the predominant shade was still that dirty red color Peter was sure he was going to despise for the rest of his damn life, the buildings were tall and clean, there was the usual variety of hovercrafts, and the population seemed to be made up of a wider variety of species.

“I need a bar. Or a goddamn city fountain, I don’t care, I just need some water before I shrivel up and die,” he groaned, eyeing a passing kid who was sipping on some kind of massive drink and genuinely contemplating taking it from him. He was pretty sure that the only way his mouth could get any dryer would be if he literally put a mouthful of sand in it.

“That looks like a bar over there,” Gamora ventured, pointing across the street from them at the crumbling façade of the shortest building on the block. Peter had more or less grown up in dive bars, so he sure as hell knew how to recognize one in any form. He was across the street and opening the (thankfully normal height) door in a hot second, groaning in relief as the heavy pressure of the burning suns left his skin. There was no air conditioning because Draconians were reptilian and thrived in the warmth, but there was a warbling fan overhead and it felt twenty degrees cooler inside just because of the lack of suns.

There was a grand total of three people in the place, including a Draconian bartender who looked like he was about to start molting – which, ew, did they actually do that? Peter tried not to let his disgust show as he sat down on a rickety stool and got a closer look at the droopy peeling skin. The bartender looked in Peter’s direction (or at least Peter thought he did. It was goddamn hard to tell!), and Peter held up two fingers.

“Two waters.”

The bartender seemed to have heard him, turning away to pull out a couple of grimy glasses, and so Peter reached into the pocket at his calf. Groot’s vines wrapped around his fingers and Peter pulled him out to set him on the bar. He looked exhausted, his leaf hanging on by a thread, branches dry and brittle. Peter frowned, cradling his tiny head in his palm while he waited impatiently for their cups.

“The tiny tree looks ill,” Drax offered, and the seat next to Peter creaked ominously as he settled his massive body onto it.

“He’s fine,” Rocket snapped, pulling himself up on the stool on Peter’s other side. “Give him some water and he’ll bounce right back. One time, when we was huntin’ down some Torsian chick for a bounty we had to go three days without water. Groot looked like a petrified log with legs, but I shoved him into a river and he was back to his idiot self in five minutes.”

Two iceless water glasses were set on the bar top in front of them with a _thunk_ , and Peter wasted no time picking Groot gingerly up and dropping him into one of them. Groot blinked and opened his mouth to suck in a mouthful of liquid, and Peter picked up his own glass to down the contents without so much as a breath. He could have cried from the sheer relief of the cool water washing the dirt off of his tongue, and as the bartender came back with waters for the others he dropped his glass back on the counter and pushed it over for a refill.

“Also, whatever you’ve got that doesn’t have, you know, bugs and shit in it,” he added as the still silent lizard man picked up his glass and turned away.

“Make that two,” Rocket snipped.

“Isn’t it early to be drinking? We’re supposed to be finding information,” Gamora piped in, not quailing in the least as Peter and Rocket turned as one to glare at her.

“We just spent, like, five hours trekking through a desert wasteland. I think we deserve a goddamn drink,” Peter snapped, and he saw Rocket nodding in agreement out of the corner of his eye.

Gamora rolled her eyes and finished off her water.

“Don’t be dramatic. It was only an hour and a half.” She stood, and Drax followed suit, the only one of them who wasn’t in poor temper. “You two can be drunk and useless here. Drax and I are going to go do what we came here for.”

She turned away with a flip of her hair, pausing after a step to glare warningly back at them. “Watch out for Groot.”

Peter raised the glass the bartender had just placed in front of him in a silent salute before tossing it back, letting out a grateful groan as the liquid burned down his throat. When he peered into Groot’s cup he saw that Rocket had been right about him bouncing back; he was already looking better, his branches filled out with moisture, eyes bright as he bobbed up and down in the remaining liquid.

“Hey, how you feeling little guy?”

Groot grinned at him before popping up and spewing a mouthful of water right into his eye.

“Gross, man!” Peter hissed, rubbing at his eye with the hem of his shirt. Rocket snorted out a laugh, gesturing to the bartender for two more drinks even as he finished his own off.

This time when the guy dropped off their glasses there was something… off about them. Peter and Rocket leaned down as one to peer into them, and Peter realized that they each had a piece of flaky skin floating around on top of the liquid. They turned to face each other, and he saw the same disgusted look he was sure that he was wearing mirrored on Rocket’s face.

“Nasty,” Peter whispered, fishing out the flake of skin and flicking it across the room. Rocket did the same, and they spent a minute just staring into their glasses.

“They say alcohol kills anything, right?” Rocket ventured at length.

Peter frowned thoughtfully, humming. “Sure, why not?”

He shrugged and picked up his glass, tilting it in Rocket’s direction before they both downed the drinks.

Peter wasn’t sure how long they sat there drinking in companionable silence, but he’d had a pleasant buzz going on for quite some time when Rocket turned to him with a thoughtful unfocused look. “Y’know, you’ve been in an awful shitty mood lately, Quill.”

The dingy light from the bar filtered through Peter’s glass as he swirled the amber liquid around in it, not looking up at his companion. “You know, maybe if you weren’t such a dick all the time I’d be in a better mood.”

Rocket snorted derisively, still not looking in Peter’s direction either. “Yeah, okay, that’s a load of shit and we both know it. What, that weird blue pervert not putting out for you anymore?”

Peter slammed down his glass so he could turn to glare at the raccoon, feathers instantly ruffled because, fuck, Rocket was always being a dick when it came to talking about Yondu. Not only that, but he always seemed to be the one bringing him up in the first place. “What the hell do you have against Yondu anyway, you asshole?”

Rocket tossed back the rest of his drink and placed his glass back on the bar, not removing his paw from it. “I ain’t got nothin’ against him; that’s your department, not mine. I’m just saying if it’s gonna be affecting your job shouldn’t you, I don’t know, _do something about it?”_

Peter gaped. _What the actual fuck?_ “We’ve been a little fucking busy lately, in case you hadn’t noticed! When the hell was I supposed to go find him, huh?”

Rocket rolled his eyes and finally turned to face Peter, lips pulled back in a toothy snarl. “Oh, cry me a goddamn river! Wah, I’m busy so I can’t make a fucking _holo call_ to my weird ass boyfriend. That’s a freaking excuse and you know it. If you can’t man the fuck up and figure your shit out then maybe you should just call it off and go back to fucking your way across the galaxy, ya big pink ape baby!”

“Why the fuck do you even _care_ man?” Peter snapped, at a loss for anything else to say because out of all the things he could have imagined he and Rocket talking about while they were drinking alone _this_ had certainly not been anywhere on the list.

Rocket shot angrily to his feet, and Peter was surprised at how intimidating it actually was considering the fact that the raccoon had to stand on top of his stool because of his short stature. “Because I’m sick and tired of watchin’ you mope around the ship like a goddamn lovesick teenager, that’s why! It’s as annoying as it is pathetic, and it’s starting to hinder your job performance. I, for one, don’t want to _die_ because my jackass coworker has fuckin’ blue balls!”

Peter felt his own lips draw back in a snarl, defensive and angry. “I ain’t endangering anyone, asshole!”

“Oh, yeah?” Rocket snapped, slamming his glass down on the countertop where it cracked clean in half. “What the fuck do you call shit like this, like how you gotta go get fuckin’ wasted every time we’re in port? _I’m Peter Quill and I gotta drink away my stupid fuckin’ feelings and be a hungover mess for the rest of my goddamn life!”_

Peter heard a glass shatter behind the bar, and when he peeked out of the corner of his eye he could see the bartender slowly creeping over to the holo on the wall. He’d had the authorities called on him enough times in his life to know that it was about to happen again, and that was just what they fucking needed right then!

Rocket was still going, working himself up so much that his fur was beginning to stand on end. “ _Maybe_ if you hadn’t had to go piss the day away in a goddamn bar on Aakon you woulda been coherent enough to not get yourself fucking _stabbed_ by a goddamn _waitress!_ Then, guess the fuck what, you woulda been there when the kamikaze twins attacked and maybe Gamora wouldn’t have gotten hurt!”

Peter deflated when the words filtered through to his tipsy brain, confused. What? He hadn’t heard anything about Gamora getting hurt. Rocket must have seen the look on his face because he snarled at him before hopping onto the bar and grasping the chest of Peter’s shirt in both paws.

“Oh, what? You didn’t know? Big surprise! Your ass ain’t a fuckin’ hat, Quill. Pull your head out of it for five seconds and maybe you’ll notice the rest of us!”

Peter glanced down at the tiny fists clenched in his shirt with a raised eyebrow, unsure what to say, unsure what to think. He’d been so busy being absorbed in missing Yondu, in his own insecurities, in his own uncertainties about the work he was doing - about his relationship (or lack thereof), about the responsibilities being heaped on his shoulders - that he hadn’t stopped to consider the fact that he might be affecting the rest of his team. He _had_ more or less taken responsibility for this band of misfits, promised them a purpose, promised them what kind of passed for a leader figure. Had he really been that shitty?

“Rocket, I didn’t think – “

Rocket interrupted him with another snarl, dropping Peter’s shirt and shoving his chest angrily. “ _No,_ you didn’t fucking think! What else is new?”

The comment was so similar to something Stakar had said to him _years ago_ that it took him aback slightly. He did nothing but watch as Rocket grabbed Groot, hopped down off of the stool and started walking out the door. He paused to look over his shoulder with a much softer look than he’d been wearing before. “Do us all a favor and figure your shit out before we forget why we came with you in the first place.”

Peter sighed as the door to the bar slammed shut behind Rocket, turning to wearily eye the bartender. “You didn’t hafta call the damn cops, man. I’ll pay for the stupid glass.”

“Just stay where you are, Terran. Nova is on their way,” the bartender snapped, his voice just as weird and papery as his skin. Peter didn't have to fully understand Draconian to know what that meant, and he leapt to his feet with his heart in his throat.

“ _What?_ Fucking _Nova_ over, what? A little yelling and a broken glass? They're actually _answering_ that call?”

The man didn't have time to answer before the sound of an approaching ship rumbled through the room. Peter groaned and unstrapped his blaster from his thigh, aiming it at the bartender’s scaly face. “Look man, I don't have time for this shit. Tell me where the back door is or I swear to fuck I'll shoot you right in your creepy ass face!”

To his credit, the guy barely flinched at the barrel aimed between his yellow eyes. Instead he huffed out a wheezy sigh like Peter was being a real goddamn inconvenience and pointed over his shoulder, a flake of skin snapping off with the action and fluttering to the floor.

Peter hopped over the counter, grabbing a full bottle of liquor on the way out. He paused in the doorway to point his weapon at the guy again in a clear threat. “I'm taking this because you're a dick. Don't call the cops on your customers, man, it's bad for business.”

Then he was out the door, trying to ignore the way the heat washed over his face like he had opened a goddamn oven, dashing left down the alley. He could hear the Nova officer’s ship over the buildings and knew already that unless he happened upon some seriously amazing luck he was going to be in cuffs within ten minutes.

“Shit, shit, shit!” he hissed, skidding out onto the street and narrowly avoiding bowling over a couple of Xandarian women.

“Peter Quill! This is Denarian Haze with Nova Corps. You are wanted for - argh!”

Peter snickered as the shot he'd aimed over his shoulder at the officer’s left engine caused the man to jerk his ship sharply up. He took the opportunity to slide into another alleyway, dust puffing up around his heels. There was no time to think about the fact that it was a dead end, so he kept going, hopping up on piled trash until he could pull himself over the wall and drop to the ground on the other side.

It was as he was pelting out into the street again that he felt the tractor beam from the Nova ship wash over him, that he saw the familiar blinding yellow light. He groaned and tossed his hands up into the air, resigning himself to a few long hours of trying to talk himself out of whatever the fuck situation he’d found himself in this time. His surprise then, was twofold when just as he’d given up the fight an M-Ship came barreling in, making a beeline for the Nova ship so that the officer was forced to drop Peter in order to avoid a head-on collision. For a moment as Peter dropped to the ground he thought that it was the _Milano,_ but a quick glance assured him that the orange and white body he’d been expecting was nowhere to be seen; instead, the ship was painted black with streaks of vibrant red like the trail of Yondu’s Yaka arrow.

 

Before the thought had even finished he felt a hand latch onto his wrist and he was being yanked away from the steadily brewing firefight. He nearly choked when he looked up and saw who the hand belonged to.

“ _Yondu?”_

He’d been trying not to be too melodramatic about the situation, but honestly after his drunken holo call hadn’t been returned for nearly three days he’d thought that he was going to have to track Yondu down and slap some sense into him. To see the man _here_ , on this absolute shithole of a planet just when Peter was about to get into a fuckery of a situation had him reeling.

“ _Move,_ boy! What’re ya, stupid?” Yondu snapped, and Peter hadn’t been on his crew for almost half a year but when his Captain’s voice shot through to him his instant instinct was still to _obey._ He urged his limbs into action, following Yondu down the street and into another alleyway.

“I swear to fuck, Pete, every goddamn time I find ya yer in some kinda trouble!” Yondu grumbled, yanking Peter out of the alley and into another street, only to turn the corner and dart into another dark alley. “What’d ya do this time?”

“I didn’t do _anything_! Fuck if I know why Nova’s after me,” Peter panted, still reeling from the presence of Yondu, still stuck on the fact that the man he’d been thinking about for _four months_ was not only with him but pulling him out of a shitty situation like he’d always done.

“ _Right_ , and I’m a goddamn princess. This way, jackass!”

Peter’s feet slipped on the dirt as Yondu changed directions again, pausing outside of a door long enough to blow the handle off and pull Peter inside. The door shut behind them and they were immersed in darkness. It was some kind of abandoned building, light filtering lazily through the cracked ceiling, but Peter didn’t have long to observe before Yondu took hold of the collar of his shirt and slammed him back into the wall. Peter felt that all-too-familiar body crowding into his space, felt the tell-tale brush of lips inches from his own.

“Yondu, what’s going on? I thought - “

“Shut up, Pete.”

Yondu’s lips descended on his and - as cheesy as it fucking sounded - it was like coming home. All other thoughts dropped away as Peter’s senses were filled with the press of almost chapped lips, of hands slipping under his shirt to dig at his hips, of Yondu’s warmer than Terran body heat pressing into him. Peter groaned and slipped one hand behind Yondu’s neck, the other trailing down his back to firmly grip his ass. He felt Yondu’s hips cant, rubbing into his already half-hard length.

“Fuck, baby,” Peter panted between kisses and nips. “I missed you so much.”

Yondu’s only answer was to push his knee up between Peter’s thighs, pinning Peter to the wall and causing Peter’s hips to jerk forward for a taste of delicious friction. Peter whimpered, his half-hardness swelling instantly, and suddenly he didn’t give a shit if Nova took him away for life so long as he could do this for ten more minutes. He’d known he was missing Yondu but _this,_ this feeling of all that hard muscle in his arms, the feeling of warmth, _hot_ and _heady_ , all-consuming in a way he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to experience anywhere else; this was mind-numbingly perfect.

“Such a fucking idjit, Pete,” Yondu groaned, pulling his lips away so he could trace nipping kisses down his jaw and throat, soothing the sting with his rough tongue. “Can’t leave you alone for _five minutes_ without havin’ ta come save yer ass.”

“I _told you_ \- ah, fuck!” Peter was finding it exceedingly difficult to finish a thought with Yondu’s ministrations taking up every sense, with the way those roving hands and that pushing thigh were calling for his attention. There was something _important_ happening, though, and Peter fought to remind himself that this wasn’t the right time.

“Yondu – shit - _baby_ , I dunno if you noticed but I’m kinda about to be arrested.”

Yondu hummed against Peter’s throat, snaking one hand between their bodies so he could firmly stroke Peter’s cock through his pants once before pulling back to look Peter in the eye. Yondu’s face was flush, lips kiss swollen, pupils blown with arousal and Peter instantly regretted speaking because suddenly he really wanted Yondu to take him right there against the dingy wall, Nova be damned.

“Who do you think I am, boy? You ain't gettin’ arrested.” Yondu smirked as his comm started trilling at him. He reached up and clicked it on, inclining his head as he listened to whoever was on the other line and Peter tried to tell his dick to behave for five minutes. “You ready for us Krags? Yeah. Right down the street. Uh-huh, I got the jackass.”

Peter jerked as Yondu subtly pressed up with the thigh between his legs, tossing him a filthy leer but still clearly listening to whatever Kraglin was saying.

“Yeah. Alright, gimme five minutes and then set her off. Yondu out.”

Yondu clicked off the comm and dove back in for another searing kiss, reaching behind Peter to grasp his ass firmly in both hands and push their hips together. Peter huffed and ran his tongue along Yondu’s bottom lip before sucking said lip into his mouth and giving it an almost too hard bite, pleased when the action ripped a rumbling groan from the captain's chest.

It was over too soon, though, Yondu pulling away with a little moan and pressing their foreheads together. Peter leaned into Yondu's rough palm when it came up to grasp his neck and jaw and yondu let out a shaky breath.

“Come rob a bank with me,” Yondu said suddenly, and Peter laughed once before he realized that the captain was serious.

“Yondu I can't rob a fucking _bank_! I just got my record clean.”

Yondu raised one brow, and Peter felt his thumb running along his bottom lip. “Don't look so clean from where I'm standin’. Was I imagining the Nova ship arresting your sorry ass just now?”

Peter sucked Yondu's thumb into his mouth and gave it a little nip, relishing the way it made Yondu huff in arousal before pulling the digit out. “I dunno what I did, but it's gotta be some kind of misunderstanding. I've been a damn upstanding citizen.”

“Well that sounds boring as hell,” Yondu said, dropping his knee so he could grab Peter’s belt loops and pull their hips together. “C’mon, boy, it'll be just like old times, huh? Everythin’s all set up. Kraglin’s about to start his distraction on the other side’a the city, we got the explosives all ready to go. You n me just gotta get in, grab a load of cash and get back out so Krags can pick us back up.”

Peter huffed out a laugh, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth and looking at Yondu with hooded eyes. “ _Just_ like old times?”

Yondu grinned, that familiar filthy promise in the stretch of his lips, in the way his eyes darted down to Peter’s mouth, in the way his hips rolled ever so slightly into Peter’s. “ _Exactly_ like old times. You know, when we'd get back from a job and I'd fuck you until you couldn't say anything but my name,” Yondu husked, and Peter was assaulted with a thousand similar memories and he knew he was going to go right the fuck along with whatever Yondu wanted at that moment because he _needed_ that.

“ _Yeah,_ ” he breathed, darting in for one more bruising kiss. “Yeah, okay. Let’s do it. I hate this goddamn planet anyway.”

Yondu grinned, big and toothy, and Peter’s breath caught because, hell, he’d really missed that look of manic excitement, that mischievous grin which promised trouble and adventure all rolled into one. He was reminded again as they left the shade of the building for the blinding sunlight of how absolutely disgustingly in love with this man he was, of how much he needed this person in his life. Maybe it was the alcohol still filtering through him, but as he trailed after Yondu to act out what was bound to be a really shitty idea - before they'd even _talked_ about not seeing each other for four damn months after confessing their feelings -, he realized that he'd probably follow him goddamn  _anywhere_ without question. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt like they deserved to get into a little trouble together ;) That's how they fell in love, after all!


	5. Shape of You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This right here is once again me being shamelessly, shamelessly self-indulgent. After this one I think we're gonna crash into some real-life plot again, but I needed to give these poor boys this <3  
> You guys are incredible, and you support of this fic makes me constantly happy! Thank you guys for sticking around through a literally novel-length fic for this obscure pairing!

Peter followed Yondu through the still blistering hot streets, down just one block from where they’d hidden until they reached a tall sleek red-stone building that was clearly a bank. Draconia was a small planet, most of it barren or otherwise settled by village-like people. As far as he knew, this bank was the only one on the whole planet which made it a very lucrative target.

Yondu stopped behind a metal bay-type door at the back of the building, a drop off point that could fit a large armored hovercraft full of money. They didn’t have to wait more than a minute before his comm went off again. He reached up and clicked it on, inclining his head as Kraglin spoke to him. Peter’s body thrummed with anticipation as it always had before a job, and he pulled his blasters out from their holsters on his thighs. When he clicked them on they gave a familiar satisfying _whirr._ He was studiously ignoring the voice at the back of his mind telling him he was going to be in _so much trouble_ when the other Guardians found out about this.

“We’re here. Yeah. Ten seconds,” Yondu was saying into the comm, and the way his eyes glinted with excitement made Peter bite his lip. He’d missed this, the simple satisfaction of working an easy job together, the mischief in Yondu’s smirk. Yondu clicked off his comm and turned that smirk on Peter, holding up three fingers. “Distraction in three…two…”

Peter expanded his mask over his face as he heard a faint explosion wracking the other side of the city. As far as distractions went blowing shit up was usually a pretty good one, and that was proven when the sound of sirens started steadily echoing through the air. Peter leaned around the corner of the building to see emergency vehicles speeding away from them, lights flashing as they zipped towards Kraglin.

“Cost is clear,” he informed Yondu as he pulled back. Yondu had already placed a device on the scanner for the door lock and was clicking away at the holopad in his hand. A few more taps of his fingers and the display on the lock lit up green with a cheery _ping_ before the bay door began to rise.

Yondu pulled his own blaster out of the holster at his hip and turned to nod at Peter. “You ready, boy? Not too soft for this yet?”

Peter rolled his shoulders and hopped once to work out a little of the tension. “Believe me, baby, there ain’t nothing soft about me today.”

Yondu chuckled and jerked his head to indicate they should head in and Peter nodded once before following him into the building. Peter had expected a fight with security, to have to hold some people up so they could load up their bags, _some_ kind of resistance. What he got instead was… a big fat load of nothing. There was _no one_ in the back room of the bank they found themselves in.

“What the… Where’s the security?” he asked as Yondu strode over to a massive vault door and connected his device to its security pad.

Yondu turned to look at him with a raised brow. “Getting _on planet_ is the hard part when it comes to Draconia. It’s so damn difficult that they don’t much bother with a lotta security in the city. Sides, most’a the locals are tribesfolk. They don’t have a lotta need for material things. This bank is mostly here fer visitors and researchers from off-world. The officials here don’t give too many shits about what happens to it.”

Peter hummed and stepped into the vault in front of the captain, taking in the stacks of boxes and the drawers full of precious gems and metals lining the walls. Yeah, this was gonna be a good haul.

It was as they were filling up Yondu’s bags and Peter’s satchel that someone finally came for them, and Peter whirled around at the sound of a blaster clicking on, ready to fire in an instant.

Unfortunately when he faced their would-be attackers he found himself staring into Gamora’s furious gaze, flanked by Drax and Rocket. Drax’s daggers were lowered at his sides in hesitation, and Rocket’s lips were slowly turning up in a grin.

“ _Peter?”_ Gamora hissed, the only one not lowering her weapon when faced with their would-be leader in the middle of robbing a bank.

Peter sheepishly reached up and retracted his mask.  “Oh, uh, hey guys! This isn’t - “ He cut himself off and looked down at his handful of coins, at his bursting satchel, at Yondu standing at his side with two full bags. “Er, alright, this is exactly what it looks like I guess. But, I mean, these guys are a bunch of dicks. They kinda deserve it!”

Rocket powered down his weapon with a barking laugh and strapped it to his shoulder before darting over to Peter’s side and scooping up a few coins. “Ya know, when I said deal with your shit this isn’t exactly what I had in mind. I’m here for it, though. It’s about time we got a good payday.”

“Rocket! We are not _robbing a bank!_ We don’t - ugh! We’re supposed to _stop_ people like this, not help them!” Gamora snapped, clearly torn between pointing her sword at either Peter or Rocket.

Rocket didn’t look up from his task of shoveling coins into his little bag. “No one ever said bein’ a Guardian of the Galaxy meant we couldn’t do some bad shit along the way. There ain’t no guidelines or nothin’! Besides, we’ve been running low on cash lately since Quill took up his drinking habits.”

“I don’t have _drinking habits_ , you asshole!” Peter hissed.

“I am Groot!”

Peter turned to glare down at Groot, who had scampered over to tug at his pant leg. “I do _not_!”

Drax stepped forward, sheathing his daggers. “Actually - “

Peter turned his raised blaster at the other man with a warning glare. “No, you shut up about this. I do not have a damn drinking problem!”

Gamora finally lowered her sword, clearly exasperated. “We don’t have time for this! Nova is going to be here soon. We must leave before they arrive!”

“I agree with the woman,” Yondu piped in, stepping forward and subtly pressing his shoulder into Peter’s. “We got about one minute before Kraglin gets here, and Nova won’t be far behind.”

“Aw, man, if you guys are here they're gonna think you were in on this,” Peter groaned, scratching at his chin with his blaster. “Which means no one is gonna be free to go get the _Milano_ while we're being chased off the planet by Nova.”

He sighed and took off his jingling satchel to hand to Yondu. “Alright, you guys go with Krags. I'm gonna sneak out the other way and get back to the _Milano_. Fuck, I hate this place.”

“We aren't going to leave you here alone, Peter,” Gamora sighed, finally lowering her sword. Peter could tell she was still beyond pissed by the way her mouth was set in a frown, by the jerky way her arms moved as she stored her weapon, and knew he was probably going to get a serious ass kicking later.

“Alright, here's how it's gonna go,” Yondu said as he stepped forward. He was using his captain's voice and Peter was amazed that it actually seemed to snap the rest of them to attention. “Y’all are gonna get these here bags outside to Kraglin - that's his ship now - and Pete and I are gonna wait for the authorities to start chasin’ ya out before we go out the back way. You go back to the _Eclector_ with Krags and Peter and I will get ourselves to the _Milano_ and meet you.”

Rocket stepped forward, pockets full to bursting with coins. “Wait a second - “

“We ain't got time, rat!” Yondu snapped, and was immediately proven right as the sound of a ship’s guns assaulted them. Yondu hastily unslung his bags and handed them to Drax. “Go on, get!”

“We’ll be fine guys, I’ve been doing this since I was fifteen. Go on. Krags’ll take care of you,” Peter soothed, and that seemed to finally allay some of their hesitation because each of them gave him a sharp nod before darting out of the room.

Peter sighed as they left and the commotion outside intensified. He turned to watch Yondu clicking on his comm. The captain was standing with one foot propped on a pile of boxes, one hand on his hip pulling back his long coat and Peter took the moment to admire the thick cut of his leather clad thigh.

“Change a plans, Krags. Yup, that's them. You take ‘em back with you to the _Eclector_. Pete and I will be behind ya. Yeah. Yondu out.”

Yondu clicked off his comm, a little grin forming on his lips when he saw where Peter's eyes were wandering to. “Alright, we got five minutes while Krags gets your team loaded up. Whaddya wanna do with ‘em?”

Peter huffed out a laugh, feeling light for the first time in months despite the fact that there were two sets of authorities after him. He matched Yondu's grin and stepped forward, pressing into the captain's body and grabbing a handful of that perfect ass. Yondu chuckled, digging his fingers into Peter's hair and yanking until their lips met. It was insane how Peter couldn't seem to get enough of this, how he wanted it so much that the fact that they could very easily get arrested like this, making out in the vault they'd just robbed, was barely a flicker in the back of his mind.

All he knew was that Yondu was laughing against his lips, one hand buried in his hair, the other sneaking up his shirt to rake blunt nails down his back and it was just like when he was on Yondu’s crew and yet so, so different and he was in bliss.

They were interrupted by the steady beep, beep, beep of Yondu’s comm again, and Yondu huffed as he pulled away to click it on. Peter took the opportunity to trail nipping kisses over Yondu's blue stubbled jaw, down his throat.

“Yeah. Okay I - ah!”

Peter grinned against Yondu's collarbone, where he had just peeled back the captain's layers to suck and lick in a way he still knew drove the man wild.

“Yeah okay, get ‘em outta here. We - hff - We’ll be right behind you.”

Suddenly Yondu slapped a hand over his ear and winced, and Peter could hear the unmistakable sound of Rocket’s angry yell crackling over the device.

_“Quill we can_ hear you _kissing him ya dirty fuck. Keep it in yer pants for ten goddamn seconds, for the lo - “_

Yondu cut off the tirade by clicking off his comm, pulling the device off so he could rub gingerly at his ear. “Fer such a tiny animal he's got a goddamn loud mouth.”

Peter laughed against Yondu’s throat. “You seriously have no idea.” He pulled away and tugged the captain’s collar back into place. “Ready to get out of here?”

“Yeah,” Yondu hummed, pressing one more rough kiss to Peter’s lips before pulling away and heading out the door, his boy in tow.

They were walking down the street in that god-awful heat, minding their own damn business when some dickwad turned the corner sharply and shoulder-checked Peter on his way past. “Watch it, Terran!”

Yondu was immediately on the defensive, pursing his lips for an inevitable whistle, but when Peter saw what the guy was holding he clasped a hand on Yondu’s shoulder to still him. “Let him go, Yondu. He just gave me the best idea.”

Sure enough, when they rounded the corner Peter found what he was hoping for when he’d seen the helmet tucked under the pedestrian’s arm. It was a hoverbike, just big enough for two people, sleek and dark purple with silver pinstripes. He grinned and crouched down so he could start fiddling with the controls, pulling out wires here and there so he could twist them with others. After just a few minutes the bike hummed to life and Peter stood with a satisfied huff.

“Alright, hop on behind me.”

Yondu laughed. “Boy, if you think I’m gettin’ on that without being the one driving you’ve got another thing commin’.”

Peter shrugged, tossing one long leg over the seat so he could settle himself on the bike. “I mean, I’m kinda bigger than you. It makes more sense this way.”

“We’ll walk then,” Yondu grunted, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Yeah, no, there’s no way in hell I’m trekking my way through that damn desert wasteland again,” Peter said, mischief sparkling behind his blue eyes. He patted the seat behind him. “Come on, baby, hop on.”

Yondu glared, refusing to budge for just a moment before he groaned and tossed up his hand in defeat. “Damn undignified,” he grumbled as he pulled himself onto the bike behind Peter, thighs spreading beautifully to accommodate Peter’s thick hips. “You tell no one about this, ya hear me boy?”

Peter revved up the bike with a chuckle, wasting no time bringing it into the air and taking off through the city. Yondu rested his hot hands on Peter’s hips, crotch pressing deliciously against his ass, and the breeze from their speed eked away the oppressive heat until Peter felt like he could really breathe.

They had been driving for maybe thirty minutes when he felt one of those tantalizing hands creep around him to grasp him through the front of his pants. He jerked to the side in his surprise, barely managing to right them before they went crashing to the ground.

“ _Yondu!”_

He felt the man in question smiling against the back of his shirt before his teeth sank lightly into Peter’s flesh. Yondu continued his ministrations, stroking Peter to full hardness through his pants. Peter groaned when he pushed his hips back and felt Yondu’s cock pressing insistently against his ass, and he wondered about the logistics of sex on a moving hovercraft. Could he keep it steady while he came?

Yondu’s other hand crept up his shirt, trailing burning fingers up his torso until they reached one already peaked nipple. He felt Yondu rubbing against him from behind as he toyed with it, rolling the nub between nimble fingers. The effort it was taking him to keep driving in what he thought was a straight line towards the ship was incredible, and only the thought that they were _almost fucking there_ kept him going.

By the time they _finally_ reached the _Milano_ Peter was a mess. Yondu had teased him for the entire drive, pressing his cock into his ass, rubbing at his nipples, kissing his neck; basically doing absolutely everything but giving him the real friction he needed. The hand on his bulge had been light and teasing, enough to feel but not enough to be truly useful, and combined with how long it had been since Peter had been with Yondu he was goddamn ready to burst.

He pulled the bike to a stop halfway up the actual ramp into the ship, swinging his leg off and pulling himself to his feet without dislodging Yondu. The way the captain growled when Peter whirled around and pulled until both of Yondu’s legs were on his side of the bike sent a spike of arousal through him. He pushed those thick thighs apart and sidled between them, grabbing Yondu by the back of his neck and pulling until their lips crashed together in a bruising kiss. Their teeth clacked together, and Yondu nipped just-this-side of too hard, and Peter was reminded of every other kiss they’d shared before Morag as he tasted the tell-tale tang of copper on his tongue.

“Pete,” Yondu panted, pulling their lips apart (Peter wasn’t having it, so he pushed Yondu’s jaw roughly aside and attacked his throat with his teeth and tongue). “Boy, we gotta get out of here before – “

It was Peter’s turn to growl, a deep guttural sound as he reached down to grip Yondu’s ass and pull them closer together. “Don’t be a fucking tease, Yondu.”

Yondu chuckled, wrapping one leg around Peter’s waist and reaching up to yank at his hair in that way which always drove Peter wild. “Ain’t – hff – ain’t bein’ a _tease._  Just bein’ practical.”

“Shut up. I know you’re just being a dick,” Peter panted, reaching up to push Yondu’s coat off of his shoulders, sparing a thought to wonder why the fuck he was wearing it in this god-awful heat. He rolled his hips, luxuriating at the feeling of their lengths rubbing together, and he was so goddamn _hot_. “Just shut up and fuck me already. Been waiting for _months_.”

“Yeah?” Yondu husked, finally giving up on whatever joke he’d been trying to play in the face of Peter’s overwhelming _want._ He pushed his hands under Peter’s shirt, trailing rough fingers around until he could slip one hand down the tight waistband of the back of his pants and grip one glorious globe of his boy’s ass.

“Yeah,” Peter groaned, fumbling with the buttons on Yondu’s vest. “Tried my fingers _so many times_. It wasn’t enough. Never enough – just – goddamnit get this _off!”_

Yondu complied, making quick work of his vest and tossing it behind him before ripping his own shirt over his head and then there was a gorgeous scarred and tattooed expanse of blue flesh for Peter to reacquaint himself with. He leant down to run his tongue over one navy blue nipple, digging the fingers of one hand into Yondu’s hip, growing increasingly desperate, and was it even possible for him to get more turned on? He could feel the pre-cum soaking into his underwear as his hips canted forward.

The bike gave a little lurch, not at all secure halfway up the metal ramp, and Yondu shoved forcefully at his chest. “Much as I wanna take you on this bike, it’s gonna fall, and it’s fuckin’ hot out here.”

Peter, who was very ready to just say fuck it all and make Yondu take him in the damn dirt, grunted before reaching between them to grasp Yondu’s aching cock. Yondu wasn’t budging, though, and even though Peter felt his member twitch under his palm the captain still pushed him back until he could pull himself into a standing position.

The walk back to Peter’s room was usually a quick one, but Peter kept halting their progress by pushing Yondu into walls to devour his mouth, tugging on his hips to grind against him and tripping him up by pressing his front flush to the captain’s back. Yondu seemed to bare all of this with amusement, tied together with a heady answering arousal. When they finally did reach Peter’s room he spun Yondu around so that he could nip and kiss his lips, running insistent hands over every inch of skin he could reach like he couldn’t decide what he wanted to touch more.

__

\-------

_ Yondu _

Yondu allowed his Terran to crowd him backwards, shuffling along until the backs of his knees hit the bed and he was forced to sit down. If he were being completely honest with himself he’d say that he needed this just as much as Peter did. When they’d come to Draconia to find Peter – which, he still hadn’t figured out how Kraglin had known he’d be there – he’d had every intention of drilling the boy for answers, of finding out who was after him and why. Peter Quill was like a goddamn siren to him, though, and the second he’d seen the big idiot dashing across the city on the run from Nova he’d known he wasn’t going to be able to keep his hands off long enough for said answers.

Peter straddled Yondu’s lap, spreading his huge thighs on either side of Yondu’s and Yondu couldn’t resist digging his fingers into the exposed bit of skin between his low-slung pants and sinfully tight t-shirt. His boy rolled his hips down, dragging his clothed cock over Yondu’s stomach and Yondu felt his chest and neck flush with heated arousal. When he rucked Peter’s shirt up to expose his rippling abs the movement was forceful, pulling a satisfied groan out of the Terran.

When Yondu ran his tongue over Peter’s stomach, dragging through the spattering of curly auburn hair there, it was salty with the boy’s sweat and Yondu wrapped his arms around those thick rolling hips so he could push closer and get another taste. The feeling of Peter’s huge powerful body so pliant, pushing into his stomach with needy rolling thrusts, dragging his firm ass over Yondu’s aching length, was pulling little huffing moans from Yondu’s chest as if against his will. He dipped the fingers of one hand down the back of Peter’s pants, pushing down between his cheeks so he could teasingly rub at his hole.

“ _Ah!_ Yondu,” Peter groaned, hand scrabbling to lock onto his face. Yondu reluctantly pulled his sucking mouth away from Peter’s chest with a little _pop_ , relishing the quick glimpse of a purple bruise there. His boy guided his face up in a rough grip until they could slot their mouths together, and Yondu didn’t think he’d ever get enough of Peter panting into his open mouth, of that sloppy wet tongue exploring his teeth and lips. “Want you – hff – want you so much.”

The way his Terran yelped when Yondu wrapped his thick arms around his waist and twisted so they fell back on the bed with Yondu on top was immensely satisfying. He leaned in for one more filthy kiss, rolling his hips down to press their lengths together once before pulling back. Peter moaned at the loss at first, until Yondu stood and unbuttoned his own pants, pushing them down over his hips until they pooled at the floor. Peter got with the program, hastily ripping his shirt over his head, pants following its path to the floor shortly thereafter.

“Hands and knees, Petey,” Yondu husked, reaching down to palm at his own leaking cock. A short little whimper left his boy’s lips at the action and then he was scrambling to comply with Yondu’s order, pushing his eager hips out to give Yondu a perfect view of his ass. He chuckled as the Terran reached over and yanked open the drawer at his bedside, digging around until he found his bottle of lube and tossing it on the bed at his knees.

“ _Hurry up_ ,” Peter hissed, hips canting forward, cock swinging in the open air at the action. “I’m fucking _dying_ here.”

Yondu had absolutely no intention of hurrying anything. Peter was once again laid out for him like a goddamn feast, and this time it wasn’t over a holocall. He knelt on the bed behind his boy, reaching out and running his hands over the globes of his ass before using those hands to pull his cheeks reverently apart, drinking in the sight like a starving man.

Peter’s whimper this time was neither short nor little, a low keening whine as Yondu flattened his tongue and ran it over his hole. Yondu’s grip on Peter’s cheeks intensified as he retracted his tongue so he could suck a wet kiss over the sensitive flesh and Peter’s hips bucked forward. He chuckled, bringing his tongue back out and working it forward until it pressed inside, relishing the way Peter clenched around it, the way his moan left him in a raspy pant.

He wasn’t sure how long he spent working Peter over, but by the time he pulled his tongue out to insert one lube-slicked finger his boy’s arms had given out and he was left with his sweat-damp forehead pressing into his furs. Yondu pulled himself up so that he could rub his leaking cock between Peter’s thighs as he prepped him, needing _some_ kind of friction because he was so ready for it by then that if he didn’t do something to distract himself he was going to take Peter without properly preparing him. While it wouldn’t be the first time they’d gotten ahead of themselves – he recalled one time in the showers when Peter had him bent over with his head pressed to the cool tiles and had taken him with hardly any stretching at all. It had ached for _days_ , a heady reminder of their frenzied fucking every time he sat down – he wanted this time to be all pleasure after so long apart.

Peter, apparently, had other plans. Yondu had barely started using his third finger when Peter growled, pulling forward so Yondu’s fingers left him and suddenly Yondu was on his back. He grunted as Peter used those thick arms to push him up, up until he was propped against the pile of pillows at the head of the bed.

Then Peter was straddling him again, one leg slung over the edge of the bed and the other pressed down into the mattress (Yondu had _always_ marveled at his flexibility) and Yondu could see the pretty pink flush that had spread over his muscled chest and up his neck into his cheeks.

“ _Fuck!_ Peter!” he shouted as Peter sank down on him without a word, guiding him in with a firm hand, pushing down, down and ignoring the burn he was very likely feeling until he had fully seated himself with a low rumbling moan.

“Too – hnng – too fucking _slow_ ,” his boy growled.

Yondu moaned, hips jerking up of their own accord, burning alive from the feeling of wet heat surrounding him. He reached up and carded his fingers through the hair at the nape of Peter’s neck and yanked until their mouths met, and he was the one panting now, helpless suddenly as Peter’s powerful hips rolled on top of him, riding him hard and slow and _so fucking perfect._

His own name was a litany Peter was reciting against his lips, and the neediness of it made Yondu feel powerful even as he relinquished control to his wild Terran. The wet squelch of his cock sliding in and out of Peter’s hole filled the room, peppered with the sound of slapping flesh and their painting breaths.

“ _Yondu – fuck – Yondu,”_ Peter moaned as Yondu slicked his own hand by running his tongue along it and reached down to pull at Peter’s cock. “ _Baby_ – oh, god – love you – hnngg – love you so much.”

“Pete – ah! – Boy I’m gonna – “

“Do it, _do it,_ ” Peter groaned increasing his momentum, hips losing their steady roll in place of hard stuttering jerks. “Come on, baby, _please._ ”

Hearing the desperate _please_ spill from Peter’s lips was what sent him over the edge, and as he pushed up to bury himself in his boy’s clenching hole his orgasm washed over him with a loud ragged moan. Through the haze of his release he felt Peter spilling over his hand, large body arching against him, riding out his own orgasm impaled on Yondu’s pulsing cock.

Peter slumped down against his chest, boneless, and Yondu brought his hand up to his own panting mouth so he could suck his fingers clean with a low groan. Peter pulled back slightly so he could watch, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth. Yondu knew his boy liked seeing how much the captain enjoyed the taste of him, and he made a show of sloppily and lazily licking off every drop, spit dripping down his digits.

When he was done he reached up to pull Peter in for a languid kiss, pushing his tongue into his mouth so he could taste himself there. His boy was the first to break the kiss, pulling back so he could wrap his arms around Yondu’s neck and push their foreheads together. “I love you,” he breathed quietly, like he was afraid Yondu was going to be angry about it.

He had a right to feel that way, maybe, and usually Yondu would refrain from returning the sentiment, trusting that Peter knew how he felt after his admission all those months ago. Now, though, now he was soft and pliant from finally releasing his pent-up sexual tension, satiated and boneless, constant churning restlessness and anger temporarily quieted by the feeling of his boy wrapped around him.

“I love you too, boy,” he said, and if his voice was a little gruffer than usual with the unfamiliarity of uttering the sentiment it didn’t make a difference to Peter, whose lips pulled up in a pleased grin, sappy and soft with satiation. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments and kudos give me life and endless inspiration, and I appreciate very single one <3


	6. Riot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a bit again. I think I'm having some writer's block issues hahaha. Writing All Time Low really seemed to help, though, so I super hope this is up to par!!

When Peter pulled the _Milano_ into the hangar on the _Eclector_ and landed it in its old place right next to Yondu’s ship, he couldn't help the little bubble of happiness in his chest. At the time when he'd left for Morag he'd never thought he'd see this again, see his baby settled next to Yondu’s like it belonged there. It was a small thing, but Peter was feeling weirdly sentimental since Yondu had grunted out those three little words. He was not, as a rule, an insecure person - was confident nearly to the point of conceit, in fact; yet when it came to all things Yondu it was always different. He _never_ knew where he stood with this idiot who had held his heart for over half his life, and when you added a host of deep terrifying emotions to that mix it became a recipe for crippling self-doubt. To have Yondu offer up that sentiment freely after months and months of being apart with little to no communication had _done something_ to him.

As the ramp lowered he turned and crowded into Yondu’s space, settling his hands on leather clad hips and sidling up close so he could press their lips together. The captain’s response was lukewarm, at best, a halfhearted press of lips so at odds with the spicy sweet kisses they’d been sharing for the past few hours that Peter pulled away with a confused frown. He pressed their foreheads together instead, bringing one hand up to stroke Yondu’s roughly stubbled jaw and trying to catch his eye.

“Baby what’s going on?” he asked when their eyes finally met.

Yondu frowned, reaching up and pushing Peter’s hand off his face so he could step back. “Ain’t nothin’ goin’ on, boy.”

That was absolute bullshit and Peter knew it. Yondu had gone from laughing, teasing, rough and sexy to closed off and cold in a hot second and Peter had known him for nine goddamn years; he could tell what something was wrong. Before he could point out that Yondu had basically just done the Galaxy’s fastest one fucking eighty the man in question was halfway down the ramp, the stomping of his boots on the metal grates ringing out through the empty ship. Peter deflated, the little happy bubble in him wilting as Yondu kept walking away.

He heard the footsteps pause, heard Yondu groan in frustration. “You comin’ or what? Ain’t got all day ya know.”

Peter sucked his lip between his teeth, chewing for a second before letting out a sigh and making his own way off the ship. There was clearly something wrong with the captain, but he was making an effort and Peter decided that in this case patience was his best interest. If they were going to work he had to learn to trust that Yondu would come to him in his own time.

He had just reached Yondu’s side when they heard the unmistakable sound of blaster fire coming from somewhere in the direction of the mess hall, followed by a frenzied scream that sounded a hellofa lot like Rocket’s. They exchanged a quick look before pulling out their weapons and dashing down the hall, weird moment forgotten in the face of their urgency.

They skidded to a halt just outside the mess, and Peter groaned. The hall was full to bursting with Yondu’s men, all standing around in a circle, jeering and yelling, a familiar cacophony of noise which meant that there was a fight happening at the center of that circle. Sure enough, when Peter and Yondu pushed some of the men aside so that they could get a better look they found pretty much what Peter had expected the second he’d heard Rocket’s voice carrying through the halls. In the center of the circle were all four of the other Guardians, all facing off against Taserface and six of his cronies. Groot was wearing a tiny version of a Ravager suit, clinging to Gamora with his face buried in her neck, and Rocket was at the front of the pack, blaster raised, a vicious snarl on his lips.

“He ain’t yer goddamn _mascot_ , ya ugly freak! Touch him again and I swear to fuck that disgusting face will be the least of yer problems!” Rocket snapped, so angry his fur was standing on end and there was spittle flying from his mouth as he spoke.

“I’d like to see you try, rodent! There’s four of you and hundreds of us. Who’s got the better odds?” Taserface said, an ugly smirk pulling at his scarred lips. At his words, almost exactly half of the circle of watching men took a small but noticeable step back, and Taserface’s grin faltered. He glared out at the room at large, and Peter was just waiting for him to notice his furious captain. “Don’t be a buncha goddamn cowards!”

When none of the reluctant men stepped back forward Taserface’s already pink cheeks went red with fury, and he turned back to the other guardians with a raised blaster, aiming it right between Drax’s eyes. Peter, who had been watching all of this unfold with a sinking feeling in his gut, hastily sprung into action before Rocket murdered everyone on board, stowing his blaster in its holster so he didn’t appear threatening.

“Whoa, whoa, _whoa!”_ he said, dashing forward so he was standing between the two groups with his hands raised. “Alright, let’s just all take a second and calm down.”

Taserface’s lips pulled back in an ugly snarl, and if Peter thought his presence might do something to calm the situation he knew then that he was dead wrong. “ _Quill._ Shoulda fuckin’ known your stupid ass would be showing up soon.”

Rocket stepped forward so that his shoulder was pressing into Peter’s calf, and when Peter looked down he could see his little finger twitching over the trigger on his blaster. “Brilliant fuckin’ deduction, dumbass! Gee, musta been real hard to figure out Quill was gonna show up when his _entire team_ was here. Did it hurt to think that hard?”

Taserface was ignoring him in favor of staring at Peter, and Peter knew he’d fucked with Taserface a lot over the years but he had no idea until that moment how much Taserface hated him. He could see it in the flinty look in his narrowed eyes, in the way he was gnashing his teeth together. “What’s the captain’s little bitch doin’ crawling back here now? After what you pulled? I oughta put you out of our misery right fucking now,” he spat, and Peter watched with a raised brow as he turned his blaster from Drax until Peter was staring down the barrel of it.

A sharp familiar whistle pierced the air and suddenly there was a glowing red Yaka arrow between Taserface’s eyes. The men parted like the red sea as Yondu stepped forward, boots steadily _clank, clank, clanking_ on the metal floor as he slowly strolled into the center of the room. Peter couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Yondu this deadly calm, seen the hard set of his jaw, the stiff shoulders, the puffed out chest and dangerously narrowed red eyes. The tension rippling through the room ratcheted immediately, a wave of thick apprehension traveling around the gathered men.

When Peter looked back at Taserface he noticed that, though he hadn’t moved a hair since Yondu had whistled, there was a trickle of blood running down his forehead and over his nose, settling in a craggy scar above his lip. His bravado seemed to have abandoned him in the face of his clearly furious captain, and his once narrowed eyes were wide with fear. Yondu stopped his stroll in front of Peter and the other Guardians, pushing back one side of his long coat with a hand on his hip.

“You got a problem here, Taser?” he asked, deep raspy voice barely above a whisper and yet still carrying clearly through the room. Taser said nothing, and Yondu used the pinky nail of his other hand to pick something from his teeth. “Come on now, Taser. We’s Ravagers. This ain’t a dictatorship. You got somethin’ to say ta me, you go right ahead and say it.”

Peter’s gaze whipped to the side as someone else stepped forward, and he recognized Garron as one of the men who had not stepped back when Taserface challenged Rocket. His voice quavered slightly, and while Peter admired his bravery he recognized that the action was monumentally stupid in the face of Yondu’s clear ire. “He won’t say nothin’, then I will!”

Yondu’s head turned slowly to face Garron, brow raised in invitation to continue. Garron seemed to gain courage from this, and when he next spoke his voice was stronger. “You have _always_ favored Quill. I get it, he’s a fine piece of ass, but he _betrayed us._ Twice! And not only did you let him go, but he called you months later and you went panting after him. We know how you passed up the job for the Torrans so you could go get some nookie from this little bitch on Draconia. We know you lost us thousands of credits when you made that choice. It ain’t right, Cap!”

“So yer sayin’, what? That I’m makin’ the wrong choices?” Yondu asked, examining the nails on one of his hands. “Ya think you could do better, is that it? Think you got more right than me to run this here ship?”

Garron’s eyes went wide, and Peter was gratified to see that he seemed to be understanding the gravity of the situation. “I – no! That ain’t what I’m – “

“Come on, Garron, we all know that’s what you was sayin’. Questioning me, my judgment. You think I don’t know what goes on here on my _own goddamn ship_?” Yondu’s voice was rising, a steadily increasing sign of impending danger for anyone who knew to look for it. “You think I haven’t heard what you and this fucker here have been sayin’ behind my back?”

“I – no, Captain, we – “

Yondu stepped forward, head cocking to the side. “Say it to my goddamn face, like a true Ravager. You got no right to wear those reds if ya can’t man the fuck up and tell us all what you been thinkin’ all along!”

Garron was physically shaking now, and Peter was gaining a pretty damn good idea of what had happened to Yondu’s mood when they’d landed in the hangar. If _this_ was what life was like on the ship since he’d left, it was no damn wonder that Yondu had seemed so tense the past few times they’d talked, that coming back to the ship had soured his mood so quickly. Peter hadn’t been there for more than ten minutes and he could see the divide amongst the men, could feel the tension, could tell already that there was a civil war brewing between those loyal to Yondu and those who were chafing under his rule.

Garron gulped, clenching his fists at his sides as if to steel himself. “You – you ain’t the _same,_ Captain. Ever since we joined back with the other Ravagers things’ve been different. Yer… you’ve been changing since you started fucking Quill, and we all know it. Now you’ve joined us up with his goddamn father and yer like a whole new person.”

“And what does that mean?” Yondu asked, and his voice was calm once more.

“You gone _soft_ , Yondu. You gone soft on Quill, on us, on the job. Some of us wanna go back out on our own again. Fuck Stakar and his stupid code! We was doing fine before.” He let out a shaky sigh when he’d finished, as if letting the words out had been physically relieving.

Peter chewed his lip, keeping as still as humanly possible. He wasn’t stupid. He knew that he was the cause of this, directly or indirectly, it didn’t matter. The need to leap to Yondu’s defense was all-consuming, but he knew without a doubt that if he did that the pot was going to boil over and they’d have an even bigger shit show on their hands. He was grateful for the presence of the other Guardians, Gamora and Drax behind him with Rocket still pressing his shoulder against his calf.

“You think I’ve gone soft on you lot, huh?” Yondu asked, head cocking to the side. He turned to look at the others standing behind Garron. “You agree with him? Think I been too lenient lately, too nice, not Ravager enough for ya?”

No one said a word, which Peter thought was wise. Garron, however, was either very brave or very stupid because he didn’t step back like he should have. Yondu turned to him, sucking on his teeth in anger. Without another word, he whistled once, his red glowing Yaka arrow burying itself between Garron’s eyes with a sickening squelch. Peter winced as blood sprayed the faces of the men behind him, as Garron’s jaw went slack and he crumpled to the ground. Yondu whistled the dripping arrow back to himself, catching it as it passed.

Yondu calmly wiped the arrow off on his jacket, sniffing once before placing it back in the holster at his hip. “Maybe Garron’s right. Maybe I have gone a little soft, huh? Need ta guide ya’ll a little more; punish insolence, punish disloyalty.” He looked up at the terrified men in the room, eyeing them before turning his attention to Taserface who was standing in the exact position he’d left him in. Yondu stepped forward so that his face was inches from the other man’s. “You feelin’ disloyal today, Taserface? Got somethin’ to say bout the way I run my ship? Bout the company I keep, or the jobs I take? Come on, now, you were mighty talkative a few minutes ago.”

Taser said nothing, and Yondu poked him in the chest with one long blue finger. “Wassamatter, huh? Lost yer nerve? Forget howta speak?”

The other man mutely shook his head, blood from his head wound trickling down the scarred paths on his face to dribble off his chin. Yondu shoved him in the chest once, hard, and he took a few steps back. “Come on! You got somethin’ to say, now’s yer goddamn chance! You wanna challenge me? I fucking _dare you._ ”

When Taser still said nothing Yondu let a hard breath out through his nose before turning around to address the rest of the men. “Now I been lenient so far, been _patient_ because I know it’s been different than what you been used to under my command. I’m tellin’ ya now that that ends _right_ here, _right_ now. From now on, you will obey the damn code, without fucking _bitching,_ without question. I know some’a you have been siphoning off from the payloads, and I know who done it.” He looked directly at the group of six standing behind Taser and they all paled. “I better see every unit of what you took back in forty-eight standard hours, or I swear to fuck what I just did to Garron will look damn merciful.”

Yondu looked away from Taser and his men, hands on his hips, legs spread. “Now, ya’ll better get the fuck back to work right quick, or I’ll rethink my last act of mercy.”

The room was cleared in seconds, every single man but the Guardians, Kraglin, and Yondu lighting out like they were on fire and Peter let out the breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. “Well that was intense.”

“God damn, Udonta, yer crew’s fuckin’ rabid!” Rocket snapped, stepping away from Peter’s side at last.

“What even happened?” Peter asked as Yondu and Kraglin walked over to Garron’s body and started hauling it over to the airlock.

“I am Groot,” Groot sniffled, turning away from Gamora’s neck and reaching out for Peter. Peter walked over and picked him up so he could examine him, noting that the suit he was in was literally sewn shut on his little body.

“They did what? Who? Who poured liquor on your face?” he asked, furious, though he was appeased somewhat when Groot pointed at Garron’s corpse. “I’m sorry that happened, buddy. I promise it won’t again, alright?”

“That jackass Taserface had better watch his fuckin’ back,” Rocket snarled, stowing his blaster in the holster on his back.

“Now, rat, you gonna go causin’ more trouble on my ship yer gonna find yerself real unwelcome right quick,” Yondu snapped as he and Kraglin stepped up to join their group.

“ _He’s_ the one causing trouble! Did you _see_ what he did to Groot? Did you fuckin’ hear the way he talked about Quill, called him your little bitch? Threatened him?” Rocket’s fists were clenched at his sides, and his fur was once again standing nearly straight up. “You’re just gonna, what, let it happen? Aren’t you supposed to be his – ugh – _lover_ or somethin’?”

“This man is Quill’s lover?” Drax asked, and everyone turned to look at him with matching exasperated expressions. “Since when? I thought the puny shield maiden was his lover.”

Kraglin spluttered, going cherry red in the face. “I ain’t no goddamn _maiden_ , you asshole!”

“You sayin’ you’re my lover then, Krags?” Peter leered, waggling his eyebrows at the flustered man.

“Fuck no, ya nasty little freak! That’s _disgusting!”_

Peter placed a hand over his heart, feigning a wounded ego.

“How did you _not_ know that he and Quill were fucking? Are you _blind?_ ” Rocket asked, tossing his hands up in exasperation.

“Clearly I am not blind, Rocket, I am looking at you with my eyes right now,” Drax replied, crossing his arms with a frown.

Gamora groaned. “We do not have time for this. Peter, we need to talk about what happened on Draconia,” she said, nodding pointedly at Kraglin and Yondu in invitation for them to leave the room.

“Wait, wait, wait, alright no. _First_ we need to talk about _this motherfucker_ ,” Rocket snapped, pointing one sharp nail at Yondu. “Are none of you going to talk about how _he’s_ the reason Quill’s been such a goddamn mess lately? And then, what, he comes back into his life, they fuck and rob a bank, and he lets his men threaten his _life? Is no one not okay with this?_ ”

Peter gaped, wondering where this defensive, protective Rocket had come from. Rocket had been yelling at him for _months,_ picking fights at every opportunity, angry and acerbic in every interaction. Since when did _he_ care about Peter’s supposedly delicate sensibilities? “ _Dude!_ I don’t need anyone to _defend_ me. Do I look like a goddamn innocent to you?”

Rocket spun on him, fists once again clenched at his sides, and Groot hopped out of Peter’s hand to land on Drax’s shoulder. “No, you look like the jackass who’s been bending over and taking it his whole goddamn life and won’t stand up for his damn self! I know I told you to figure your shit out, but if this asshole thinks he can fuck you and leave you again – which it’s really fucking looking like from where I’m standing – and you’re not going to stand up for yourself _I will_. He let that jackass Taserface get away with _threatening your life_. If it were me that fucker would have been dead the second the words left his goddamn lips. We’re your goddamn _family,_ Quill. It’s our fuckin’ job to stand up for you when you won’t!”

“Look man, I really appreciate you trying to look out for me but I’m a grown ass man. I’ve been dealing with Ravagers like this since I was _six years old._ Do you have any idea how many times my life has been threatened?” Peter sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Things are clearly tense right now. Let’s just all cool off for a bit, alright?”

Rocket looked from one face to another before snarling and stomping out of the room. “I’ll be on the fuckin’ ship.”

Gamora stepped in front of Peter, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll go talk to him, but Peter we really do need to talk later.” She squeezed his shoulder once and stepped back. “We’ll meet you back on the _Milano._ ”

Peter sighed as she walked away, Drax in tow, rubbing the back of his neck and rolling his head on his shoulders. “This is a fuckin’ shit show.”

Yondu had been eerily silent through the whole exchange, and Peter hadn’t missed the uncharacteristic taciturn behavior. It made him nervous, if he were being honest, coupled with his tense shoulders and the fight from earlier. He turned to look at the captain then, catching his eye with a little quirk of his lips which Yondu didn’t return. “So, what now?”

Yondu looked away and Peter suppressed a groan. “You better go talk to yer crew before they blow up my damn ship.”

Peter stepped forward, frowning. “Hey, wait a second – “

“Just go, alright? I’ll be on the bridge later when yer done,” Yondu interrupted, already turning away and gesturing for Kraglin to follow him out of the room.

Peter watched them go, trying to figure out where the actual fuck the day had gone so terribly wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for your constant encouragement :) <3 Every review means the absolute world to me!


	7. Weak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, man, writer's block has got me so bad right now! This chapter was a breakthrough again, so hopefully that keeps the trend going. Thanks for sticking around, guys!!

Peter knew he was in for it when he walked onto the  _ Milano  _ and found all of the other Guardians sitting around the table, one chair pushed out for him. He sighed and sat down, crossing his arms and raising a defensive eyebrow. “Alright, let’s get the verbal beating over with.” 

“Peter,” Gamora sighed, rubbing at her temple. “You can’t just start committing blatant crimes again. Who’s going to hire us if we have that kind of record? It’s not just your reputation you have to worry about anymore. All of us feel the consequences of your actions.” 

“Yeah, Quill, quit being a damn heathen!” Rocket piped in, not looking up from where he was  trying to cut Groot out of his outfit. “Stop squirmin’, ya little idiot, you’re gonna get cut!”

“Hey, no! You,” Peter snapped, pointing one long finger in Rocket’s direction. “ _ You  _ do not get to join in on this scolding. You helped me rob the damn bank, too, you furry little hypocrite!” 

Rocket snickered as Groot stepped out of the remains of the suit and kicked it angrily off the table. “I was just followin’ my fearless leader. You can’t blame me for that!” 

Drax crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, metal legs groaning under his massive weight. “Rocket, you are always stealing things on missions. Quill only did this once.” 

“What?” Gamora snapped, attention focusing on Rocket. “What does he mean by that?” 

“Drax!” Rocket groaned, jumping up on the table with his little fists clenched. “You weren’t supposta say anything about that! We had a deal, man.”

“I mean he is always stealing things on missions,” Drax said, frowning at Gamora and ignoring Rocket completely. “How are you not understanding me?” 

Peter barked out a laugh, slapping a hand over his mouth when Gamora turned her icy glare on him. He held up his other hand in a placating gesture, trying to stifle his grin. He coughed into his fist to cover up another snicker. “Sorry. Just - uh - allergies, you know.” 

“Rocket,” Gamora started, turning her focus back to the raccoon, who was busy digging one of his nails in his ear. “What things have you been stealing?” 

“Nothin’ anyone’s missing, clearly!” he replied, shrugging. 

“Well, actually the Andorian was pretty angry about his scepter,” Drax offered, and Rocket turned to snarl at him. 

“ _ Dude!  _ Not fucking cool!” 

“Oh my god!” Peter exclaimed, cackling. “I thought that guy was just mad that I slept with his wife a few years ago! You mean he was chasing us off planet because you  _ stole something _ ? I win so many brownie points back for this, you have no idea.” He pointed excitedly to Rocket, who was looking less and less amused by the second. “He’s the reason we had to stop for repairs! I expect a full apology, Gamora, like right now.” 

“I’m not apologizing to you,” Gamora scoffed. “You’re both terrible!” 

Rocket turned his glare on her. “Hey! I resent that. Don’t lump me in with Quill. I ain’t the one robbing banks for a booty call.”

“Yeah, no, he actually has a point there,” Peter said, grinning. The others turned incredulous stares on him and he shrugged. “I mean I totally robbed that bank to get laid. This is, like, mild compared to things I’ve done in the past, you have no idea. This one time I actually stole a Nova ship and blew it up to get with this Xandarian chick. It was awesome.” 

Gamora threw up her hands in exasperation. “You are ridiculous and I don’t know why I bother! Look Peter, the point is that you -” she turned to glare at Rocket as well. “ _ Neither of you _ \- can keep doing these things. You’re going to get us all into trouble, and we can’t keep getting legitimate work like we’ve been getting if we have a record.” 

“I am Groot,” Groot supplied. 

“ _ Yes,  _ Groot, this means you can’t help Rocket pick pockets anymore,” Gamora groaned, and Peter could tell that she was trying very hard to have patience with at least the most innocent in the crew. 

“Dude, why are you even bothering to pick pockets?” Peter asked, turning his stare on Rocket. “How much can you really be getting from that in comparison to what we make on actual missions?” 

“Mind your own goddamn business,” Rocket snarled, not meeting Peter’s eye. 

“Rocket has a hole under his bed with shiny things he’s stolen from people,” Drax supplied, and the hair on Rocket’s neck rose with his ire. Drax looked genuinely confused about his reaction. “What? I thought it was normal for your species to collect shiny things.” 

Peter snorted, bringing his fist up and biting down on his knuckles to prevent a full-on laugh. “That’s - uh - that’s okay man. It’s kinda cute, actually.” 

“I ain’t fuckin’  _ cute,  _ Quill!” Rocket snarled, pulling out his blaster and clicking it on. “You wanna see cute? Wonder how cute your ugly ass boyfriend will find it when I give you a new hole for him to fuck!” 

“Well that’s just uncalled for,” Peter said, still grinning. “Yondu’d be pissed if he heard you calling him my boyfriend.” 

Rocket aimed his blaster between Peter’s eyes, though he only had it there for a second before Gamora snatched it out of his hands with a furious snarl. “You two are  _ children! _ Can we be serious for five minutes please?” 

Peter was many things, asshole included, but as he’d told Officer Dey all those months ago he wasn’t one hundred percent a dick; he knew when he had pushed someone to the edge of their limits, and all joking aside he definitely didn’t want to push Gamora past that. He settled his face into some semblance of sincerity and nodded. “You’re right. I’m sorry, Gamora.” She lowered the blaster and turned to him, expression mistrustful. “Hey, no, I’m serious. Robbing the bank was  stupid. In fact, a lot of shit I’ve been doing lately has been stupid. I know I’ve been a shitty teammate lately, been letting my personal shit get in the way. I am genuinely sorry, and I promise to try and keep myself in check, alright?” 

Gamora set the blaster on the table. “Peter, we’re not just your teammates. We’re your family now, and we care about you. If you’re going through something we want to help.” 

Rocket snorted. “Speak for yourself. I’ve walked in on what he’s going through, and I want no part in that.” 

“If you want no part in it, then why do you keep insisting we leave you alone to talk with Quill when he is obviously upset?” Drax asked, and Peter imagined that if Rocket were capable of it he’d be blushing from toes to ears. 

“I don’t - he- I just like to make fun of him when he’s bein’ a baby is all!” Rocket spluttered, and Peter’s grin this time was genuine. He’d never admit it out loud, but he was kind of touched that the little jerk cared about him enough to try and help in his own dickish way. Rocket made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat when he saw Peter’s expression, hopping down from the table and walking out the door. “I’m done with this weird emotional bullshit.” 

“Good night honey,” Peter sing-songed. “Love you!” 

Rocket flipped him the bird over his shoulder and Peter chuckled. So maybe his life wasn’t as fucked up as he had been thinking it was. At least he still had this, this easy camaraderie, the support of his fucked up family even when he’d been being a jackass for months.

\------

Hours later, when the ship’s night had started and most of the men were either sleeping or getting wasted in the mess hall, Peter made his way through the familiar halls of the  _ Eclector _ until he reached the bridge. Aside from the captain, there were only two more men in the room. Kraglin was in his usual place behind the Nav station, and Hax was busy cleaning a pile of blasters at the other end of the room. 

Peter’s attention was, as always, drawn to Yondu, and he leaned against the doorway with his arms crossed to watch. The captain was sitting sprawled in his chair, his favorite position with one leg slung over one of the seat’s arms and the other foot firmly planted on the floor, a holopad glowing in his lap. It was clear from the tense set of his shoulders and the way he was rubbing at his temple with his free hand that he was feeling far less relaxed than his position would suggest. He sighed and closed his eyes, dropping his head to rest on the back of his chair. It was as he rolled his neck to the side that his eyes opened and he caught sight of Peter. 

Peter smirked as their eyes met, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth and not missing the way Yondu’s gaze flickered down to watch. Quickly coming to a decision, Peter stepped into the room, the sound his boot made on the floor drawing the attention of the others. He hiked his finger over his shoulder with a quirky grin. “I think it’s break time, Krags, Hax. Whaddya say to a few extra hours off tonight?” The others looked to Yondu, clearly confused. “Oh, that wasn’t a suggestion. Get outta here before you catch a show I’m sure you don’t wanna see. Coz the things I have in mind for the captain - filthy.” 

\------

_ Yondu _

Yondu watched his men follow Peter’s order with a raised brow, which he didn’t lower even as he watched Peter shut and lock the doors to the bridge and start stalking towards him. His other brow hiked up to join the first as his boy slowly slipped his shirt up and over his head, revealing miles of hard muscle covered in soft auburn hair. 

“Chu doin’ boy?” he husked, shifting in his seat as heat pooled in his groin, dropping his other foot to the floor. Truthfully he hadn’t expected to see Peter again so soon. He knew he’d been an ass with the way he’d turned his boy away, was self aware enough to know that the way his mood had shifted so quickly when they’d landed on his ship had to be confusing for him. 

“You look a little tense, baby,” Peter purred, dropping to his knees between Yondu’s legs. The sight of all that power at his feet did sinful things to Yondu, and he couldn’t help the way his legs fell further apart as Peter’s large hands came to rest on his thighs. There was mischief sparkling in Peter’s blue eyes as his tongue darted out to wet his lips. “Let me help you relax.”

Yondu let him pluck the holopad out of his slack fingers and drop it on the floor behind him, sparing a thought for how easy it was for this wild Terran to turn his world upside down. Ten seconds, a smirk, and a dropped shirt and Yondu had gone from frustrated and angry to hot and heady like flipping a damn coin. Was this what love did to a person? Was this complete loss of control, this feeling of being so disgustingly at another person’s mercy, something everyone experienced? 

“Thought you’da left by now,” he said, sucking on his teeth as Peter’s firm hands started sliding up his inseam. 

Peter stopped, frowning. “What, because you snapped at me earlier?” Yondu gave a jerky little nod and Peter chuckled. “First of all, you’re an idiot. I fell in love with your cranky ass, when you’d been yelling at me for  _ years _ . You think I’m that fragile, that I can’t take one snip after you had to kill one of your men?” 

He slipped one hand up, skittering around Yondu’s growing bulge to push under the hem of his shirt where he stroked the scarred flesh there. “Second of all, a goddamn blind man could see that shit’s been getting pretty intense on your ship lately. The way the men were acting - well, let’s just say that things are making a lot more sense right now.” 

“Pete - “ 

Peter shushed him by digging the nails of the hand still on his thigh into his flesh. “We’ll talk about it later. Just shut up and let me fuck you, alright?” 

Yondu couldn’t help the way his lips pulled back in a little grin, the way his hips shifted forward. “Well, best get on with it then, boy, I ain’t got all day.” 

“Aye, Captain,” Peter quipped, leaning down to nip at Yondu’s clothed thigh. He pushed his cheek into Yondu’s leg, his stubble making a scratchy noise against his leathers as he dragged his face up his inner thigh. The way Peter groaned when he reached the apex of Yondu’s legs, burying his nose in his crotch like he’d been dying for it for days, went straight to Yondu’s cock. 

Too soon Peter moved away from Yondu’s rapidly filling member, but then he had pushed up Yondu’s shirt and was placing hot open mouthed kisses on Yondu’s exposed navel, lapping at the raised scars there with a wicked tongue. Yondu couldn’t help the way his hips rolled up, dragging his straining dick over Peter’s taught stomach. He groaned as Peter reached down, still nipping and kissing his exposed abdomen, and unbuttoned his pants with deft fingers. 

Peter hooked his fingers in the waistband of Yondu’s pants and tugged, pulling them hastily down over Yondu’s shifting hips, dragging Yondu’s underthings with them. The soft thud, thud of Yondu’s boots falling to the floor and then his pants joined in and that wicked mouth was back on him, trailing burning kisses up his calf and thigh. He spread his legs further, shifting down in his seat to accommodate as Peter’s slithering tongue moved from his inner thigh to his balls, sucking in a breath as his boy started the apparently slow process of working him over. 

By the time Peter was done nipping, kissing, licking, and sucking on literally every part of Yondu’s lower anatomy but the one he was salivating for him to touch Yondu was a panting mess. He writhed on the chair as Peter’s tongue pressed firmly against his taint, his hot breath ghosting up over his balls. He buried his hand in Peter’s hair and gave it a little tug, hips rolling, needing friction, needing something before he burned alive there in his chair. 

“Petey,” he groaned, shameless, beyond caring that he was about to literally beg his boy to get those lips on him. “Pete, come on. Need it. Just - fuck -  _ baby please. _ ”

Peter’s breath hitched at the use of the pet name, and it was apparently the right thing to say because seconds after that Peter’s lips were slipping over the head of his cock and then he was buried root deep in that wet heat. He shouted wordlessly, hips bucking, digging his fingers so hard into Peter’s hair he wouldn’t be surprised if his hand came away with a few strands in it. 

“You like that, boy?” he asked, grunting as Peter’s eyes rose to meet his, as he watched his cock slip obscenely between those lips, cerulean contrasting sharply with the Terran pink. “Like it when I call you baby?” 

Peter hummed around him, and Yondu moaned at the sensation, overwhelmed with the feeling combined with the intimacy of the eye contact they were still maintaining. He could see Peter’s own hips shifting, could see that his boy was rubbing himself through his pants and suddenly there was nothing he wanted more in the galaxy than to be ruthlessly plowed by his Terran. He reached down with the hand not still buried in Peter’s hair, digging around in the compartment at the side of his chair until he came across the bottle of lube he’d been searching for. 

“You better - hnng - you better get up here and fuck me, Pete, or I’m gonna have to kick you off the goddamn ship,” he husked, pulling his hand out of Peter’s hair and thrusting the bottle of lube at him. 

Peter pulled off with a wet  _ pop _ , a trail of spit and precum connecting his lips to Yondu’s tip and Yondu wished more than anything that he could take a picture of that because he knew without a doubt that it could keep him going for  _ weeks  _ while they were apart. Peter took the bottle from him and flipped the cap, hips canting ever so slightly, and Yondu was ten seconds from telling him to forget the prepping and take him right the fuck then. 

“I like you like this,” Peter said, voice gravelly from arousal and having his throat fucked. He slicked up two of his fingers and trailed them down, skidding over Yondu’s balls, across his taint. “Needy - begging -  _ filthy _ .” He slipped both of those fingers past Yondu’s tight ring of muscle, and even though over the years Yondu had become pretty good at relaxing himself for just such an occasion the sudden invasion still burned. 

It didn’t matter though, especially not when Peter raised himself up on his knees and pulled Yondu in for a searing kiss. Yondu bore down on those questing fingers as Peter’s tongue invaded his mouth, and before he knew it the burn had been replaced with slippery pleasure. He clenched down around Peter’s digits, and it was testament to how often they’d been together that Peter took it for the cue it was and added his third finger.

“Pete,” he growled, wrapping his legs around Peter’s beautifully thick torso. “I swear to fuck if that cock isn’t in me in ten seconds I’m gonna whistle you through.” 

Peter had always obeyed when it counted, and before Yondu knew it there was something much larger than fingers pushing into his waiting hole. There was a bead of sweat trickling down the column of Peter’s throat and Yondu leaned down to lap it up, savoring both the flavor and the way it made Peter’s hips jerk forward, burying his length further. 

“Fuck,” Peter panted into his ear as he pulled himself out and thrusted back in, grasping Yondu’s ass firmly in both hands. “Yondu - ah!” 

Yondu gave as good as he got, and as Peter’s hips gained momentum he rolled his own, meeting all of his boy’s thrusts. Peter’s dick was dragging over his prostate with every push, and Yondu was burning. He grasped Peter’s jaw between strong fingers and pulled until their lips crashed together, too uncoordinated to be considered a kiss but heady and perfect all the same. He didn’t think he’d ever get enough of this, and he wondered when he stopped being the type of man to get bored with the same partner after a few months. Probably sometime around nine years ago, when this little shit came plowing into his life and turning it on its head. 

He could feel Peter’s hips losing their steady momentum, could tell how close his boy was in the way his breaths were coming in shallow pants. He reached down to fist his own leaking length, breaking the kiss so he could suck and bite at Peter’s neck. 

“That’s it, boy,” he growled into Peter’s ear. “That’s it. Fuck me, Pete. Just like that - ah fuck - just - “ Peter  _ keened,  _ fingers digging into Yondu’s cheeks so hard he knew there would be little purple bruises there soon. “So good. Can’t get enough of that hot cock.” 

“ _ Yondu _ ,” Peter hissed, hips stuttering. 

Yondu felt his balls drawing up with his own release. “Come on, fuck me  _ baby _ ,” he growled, and that was it. Peter shouted as he came, burying himself as deep as he could in Yondu’s channel as he released and Yondu followed quickly after, his hot seed spilling over his fist and splashing up to stick in the hair on Peter’s belly. 

Peter collapsed against his chest, heedless of the mess, and Yondu may have been weak for it but he couldn’t resist reaching up with his clean hand to stroke his boy’s sweat-soaked hair. He closed his eyes as Peter nosed at the column of his throat, and buried his face in Peter’s hair, inhaling the strong musky scent of sweat and  _ Peter _ . Apparently his Terran knew him better than he thought, because as he felt Peter’s cum slowly dripping out of him, as the sweat cooled and dried on his body, he felt none of the aching tension he’d been feeling since the second they’d landed in his hangar. 

\------

_ Peter _

They had barely cleaned themselves off and pulled on their clothes when the  _ Eclector’s  _ main comm lit up with an incoming call. It was late even by Ravager standards, and so it was with twin looks of confusion that they glanced up and saw that it was Stakar’s caller I.D. holo floating on the screen. Peter turned questioningly to Yondu who shrugged and flicked the answer key. 

“ _ Yondu!  _ Have you seen this? I - “ Stakar cut himself off as he looked up from something in his hands and noticed Peter standing at the side of Yondu’s chair. 

Peter waved. “Hey, pops!” 

“Pete! What’re you - oh, gross!” He frowned as he took in their disheveled state, as he realized what they had very obviously been doing. “Yondu, really? You’re just gonna fuck my son on the bridge? I just - ugh! Isn’t it supposed to be the parents traumatizing the kids with this typa shit?” 

Peter had never been a bashful person, but this conversation was making him feel real awkward real quick. “Yeah, okay, so subject change in three - two - one - go!” 

Stakar shook his head, scrubbing a hand over his unusually scruffy cheek. “Right, right. Well I guess it’s good that you’re here. I was trying to call you, but, well. Anyway. Have you guys seen this?” He flicked whatever was in his hand and the display on Yondu’s screen split so that half of it was taken up with news article. 

_ ‘Known Outlaw Peter Quill Kills an Innocent Girl in a Bar on Aakon’ _ the headline read, and Peter frowned. “I mean, innocent is a bit of a stretch. She tried to kill me sooooo.” 

“Hold on,” Stakar said, looking back down at his holopad. “It gets better.” 

He flicked the screen again and another article popped up. 

_ ‘Peter ‘Starlord’ Quill Wanted for Murder of Two Draconians’  _

Another flick and another article flickered over the screen.

_ ‘Starlord, a Known Outlaw, Thought to be at the Head of the Recent Terrorist Attacks Ravaging the Quadrant’  _

Again, and again, and again; article after article all with the same theme. Peter gaped and Yondu stood from his chair. “What the fuck…?” 

Stakar flicked his screen again and the articles stopped filtering past, his face once more taking up the entire screen. “I have no idea. They started popping up a few hours ago, along with notifications for a hefty bounty issued by, get this,  _ Nova.  _ You been getting into trouble lately, kid?” 

“I mean,  _ always _ , but this?” He scoffed. “I ain’t no damn terrorist. Besides, those Draconian twins tried to kill my team and I wasn’t even there for it. And where it said I was behind the attacks on Asuki? I haven’t been there in, like, eight years. I have no idea what the fuck is going on here.” 

Stakar leaned back in his chair with a huff, the bags under his eyes all the more obvious for the dim lighting. “You need to lay low for a while, kid, till we can figure out what the fuck is going on here.” 

“Lay low? Where, under a goddamn rock?” Peter asked, tossing his hands up. 

“Don’t be a fucking idjit, Quill,” Yondu snipped, rolling his eyes. “You can stay here on the  _ Eclector _ .” 

Peter deflated, because on the one hand he really didn’t want to just hide out while others were out there trying to figure out what was going on. On the other hand, waking up naked with Yondu every morning. In the end, his dick and his common sense won out. “Yeah, alright. But we gotta get the rest of my crew off the ship. That’s a goddamn disaster waiting to happen.” 

“Good, that’s settled then,” Stakar said, rubbing at his eye with one of his palms. “Probably easier to have you both in one place for now anyway. It’ll make getting a hold of both of you when I need you easier.” 

“Hey, thanks old man,” Peter said, tossing Stakar a grateful grin. “Now get some fucking sleep. You look like death warmed over.” 

Stakar rolled his eyes. “No fucking respect, you’d think he was raised by goddamn animals,” he grumbled. “I’ll call you as soon as I hear anything, ya fucking brat.” 

Peter chuckled. “Yeah, alright.” 

The connection flickered out and Peter turned to look at Yondu, smile slipping from his face. “What the hell do you think is going on?” 

“Fuck if I know,” Yondu said, brows drawing together in thought. 

One thing was for sure: Peter’s life was never fucking boring. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh-oh. There's that trouble we've seen brewing the past few chapters! Wonder what it means!


End file.
